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THE FIGHTING 
BISHOP 


BY 

HERBERT M. HOPKINS 

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THE BOWEN -MERRILL COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS, INDIANAPOLIS 




Copyright 1902 
The Bowen-Merrill Company 



March 


THF LIBRARY ©F 

CONGRESS, 

Two Oot^sa RfcCEfvE* 

mar. 5 1902 

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PRESS OF 

BRAUNWORTH A CO. 
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
BROOKLYN, N. Y. 


To My Sisters 


CLARA BEATRICE GRANT 

AND 

SUSAN ANTOINETTE PACKER 


This Story of a Family is 
Lovingly Inscribed 








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CONTENTS 


I. In Medias Res 5 

II. Unanswered Questions 12 

III. The Gathering Storm 22 

IV. The Mark of the Beast 28 

V. Under the Quivering Aspens 35 

VI. Sowing the Wind 45 

VII. Bernard’s Wife 56 

VIII. The Marsh King’s Daughter 65 

IX. Anna, the Prophetess 82 

X. Into a Far Country 92 

XI. The Prodigal’s Return 107 

XII. A Flurry in the Tents of Peace 115 

XIII. An Ishmaelite 131 

XIV. The Bishop as a Deus ex Machina 144 

XV. Reaping the Whirlwind 161 

XVI. When Greek Meets Greek 177 

XVII. The Lay Pope 191 

XVIII. The Letter of the Law 204 

XIX. The Bishop is as Good as His Word 212 


CONTENTS 


XX. The Price of a Song 220 

XXI. Tom Asserts His Rights 235 

XXII. The Rail-Splitters’ Powwow 248 

XXIII. The First Gun 264 

XXIV. To Arms 279 

XXV. Deep as First Love 291 

XXVI. Imogen’s Visit 303 

XXVII. The Bishop Meets His Apollyon 315 

XXVIII. Gettysburg 323 

XXIX. Priest and Woman 338 

XXX. In the Hospital Ward 350 

XXXI. Stephen Prevails Against His Foes 365 

XXXII. After So Many Deaths 374 


I. 



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THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


CHAPTEE I 

IN MEDIAS RES 

The clear July night was drawing to a close. 
Already the long lines of maple trees and the roofs 
of the barns were beginning to loom against the 
white dawn. Cyprian, waking from the deep 
sleep of childhood, heard the liquid note of a robin 
as it hopped through the dewy grass in search of a 
breakfast. He recognized the crowing of his 
large yellow rooster and heard faint answers from 
distant barnyards. A market wagon bound for 
town rattled merrily on the neighboring road. 
In the quiet of the morning he could even hear the 
^^steady there, boss,’’ of Jake at his morning work 
and the rhythmical purr of the alternate streams 
of milk as they shot down into the foaming pail. 

He rolled from his little trundle-bed and went 
to the open window. The morning star was fad- 
ing and he knew it must be late. Tom and Gus 
had overslept and left Jake to do the milking alone, 
5 


6 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


Moved by a sense of responsibility be ran 
to tbe large bed where his brothers^ dark, rumpled 
heads protruded from the blankets and shookthem. 

'^Hello, there, youngster!’’ cried Tom, opening 
his eyes. ^^What time is it? Get up, Gus, you 
lazy lout !” He threw the blanket to the floor and 
began to dig his brother in the ribs. A short 
struggle followed, subdued, however, in fear of 
waking the Bishop. Then all three slipped into 
their clothes. The two older boys put on their 
flannel shirts, overalls, and boots. Cyp’s dress was 
even more simple; one piece of horde manufact- 
ure-, suited to the season of the year and the habits 
of boys, an extraordinary garment of brown over- 
all cloth that buttoned down the back, the trousers 
fastened to the waist. Gus kindly buttoned him 
up and the little barefoot fellow followed his 
brothers as they slid down the slippery roof of 
the kitchen and lowered themselves by a cherry- 
tree to the ground. Stopping at the tin basin by 
the door they dashed cold water in their faces and 
hurriedly arranged their hair with a piece of comb 
before a broken mirror nailed to the logs. Katy, 
the ^^help,” stood on the step in her calico wrapper. 

^^Hurry up, boys,” she said. You’re late this 
morning. Breakfast’s most ready.” 

She extended a thick slice of bread and sor- 
ghum to Cyprian and he munched it as he followed 
the others to the bam. 


IN MEDIAS RES 


7 


^^Guess you don’t feel very spry this mornin’,” 
said Jake, grinning at them from the flank of the 
last cow in the row, ‘^arter las’ night.” 

^^Shut up, Jake,” Tom interrupted. ^^The 
brat’s coming. Here, you little glutton, give us 
a bite.” He seized the remnant of the slice and 
stuffed it into his mouth. Cyprian began to whim- 
per. 

^^Kun back and get some more,” Gus advised. 
^^You’re always tagging after us.” 

There was no time to be lost. Gus led the horses 
from the barn to the trough and gave them a drink, 
after which he began to harness them to the milk 
wagon which stood near, while the other two 
swung up the great cans. Jake went into the 
kitchen for his breakfast. 

^^Mornin,’ Katy,” he said, between bites. 
had to do the milkin’ alone this mornin’. Late 
dancin’ makes late sleepin’.” 

The good woman guessed that Tom and Gus had 
gone to a dance the night before at Trench Camp, 
down by the creek. It was a Koman Catholic 
crowd and the Bishop had forbidden his sons to go 
there. He made them work on the farm like hired 
men, but he also kept them at their books and 
meant that they should never forget who they were 
nor what they were to be. He had destined all his 
sons to the ministry and strove to keep the idea 
constantly before their minds. 


8 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


’long with you!” Katy exclaimed. ^^You’d 
better not be saying anything.” 

She knew well enough that the sons of the 
Bishop had attended the dance in J ake’s company. 
He knew that she knew, but felt secure. It was 
Katy’s part to do her work and hold her peace. 
As for Jake, he had come but recently to the farm 
and she regarded him as an interloper, from the 
vantage ground of her twenty years of service. 
The boys said that he was going to marry Katy 
some day for her money, a witticism she was 
wont to answer by a scornful sniff. Jake him- 
self vouchsafed no information on this subject, but 
contented himself with knowing looks when it was 
mentioned. 

Uninfluenced by her obvious disapproval he 
bolted his food in silence. Then he took a short 
black pipe from his pocket and lighted it at the 
kitchen fire. In a few minutes he w^as rattling 
down the road toward Toledo. The Bishop was 
not yet awake and the boys were saved. 

Bishop Ambrose’s milk route, was one of his 
sources of income. Since he gave his parishioners 
^The sincere milk of the word” he thought it not 
incongruous that he should also sell them the sin- 
cere milk of the, cow. In those more primitive 
days no one thought it lessened the dignity of his 
episcopate to supplement his somewhat meager 
salary by the sale of the products of his farm. 


IN MEDIAS RES 


9 


tell you what it is, Gus,” said Tom, as he 
freed the horns of the cows from the bars that held 
them, ^T’m going to get out of this and go away. 
It^s just slave, slave, slave from morning to night, 
and I’m sick of it. It’s easy enough for father to 
order us around. I wonder how he would like, it 
himself ?” 

^^That’s what you’re always saying,” Gus re- 
joined. ^^Why don’t you do it ?” 

will. I’m only waiting for a good chance. 
But I’m not going empty-handed. You remem- 
ber what the Children of Israel did when they fled 
from bondage ? They spoiled the Egyptian®, 
That’s what I’m going to do.” 

Gus paused, with the shovel in his hand. 

^^You’re not going to steal anything ?” 

^^Oh, no,” Tom assured him, ^T’m only going 
to do what the Children of Israel did — ^borrow 
something. They hadn’t had any wages ; neither 
have I. There’s something due me besides les- 
sons and prayers and flogging. Eather thinks any- 
thing that has the authority of the Bible, is all 
right,” he added, with a bitter chuckle. 

The cows began to wade through the mire of the 
shed out into the barnyard. 

^Tt’s different in our case,” Gus objected. 
^^We’re his sons, but the Children of Israel weren’t 
Pharaoh’s sons, were they? Eather might not see 
it your way, and then you couldn’t come back.” 


10 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


^^What’s being his son got to do with it ? That^s 
not my fault, is it ? Besides, I don^t want to come 
back, once I get away. Only, you just keep quiet.^^ 

^^It’s none of my business,’^ Gus assured him, 
and he went off to clean up the stables. 

Tom let down the bars and headed the cows for 
the meadow by the bay. The sun had now risen 
and looking back he saw that the house was astir. 
Katy came to the door and rang the bell for break- 
fast. He leaned against the fence and looked 
gloomily at the prospect before him. It was a 
pleasant picture, but it gave him no pleasure. Hear 
him stood the great barns echoing with the soft 
notes of the doves that built their nests under the 
eaves. Straw-stacks and corn-ricks were scattered 
about, and the wheel of the tall windmill whirred 
drowsily in the morning breeze. Fields of yel- 
lowing hay extended toward the belt of woods that 
bordered the shore of Lake Erie. Through a gap 
in the forest the quiet waters were seen climbing 
toward the blue horizon. In the other direction 
the marsh spread away interminably. 

As Tom looked he saw his oldest brother, the 
preceptor of his father’s school, coming around the 
corner of the house on his return from a walk in 
the fields. Eusebius had risen early to inhale the 
sweet freshness of the morning air. The sight of 
his taskmaster reminded the rebellious boy of the 
impending lessons of the day, and his face clouded 


IN' MEDIAS EES 


11 


still more. The teacher, in turn, caught sight of 
his brother standing hy the bars and the cows am- 
bling toward the hay, the dog barking at their 
heels. His exuberant spirits overflowed at the 
sight. 

^^The rolling-gaited cattle!” he cried, in Ho- 
meric glee. 

Then he lifted up his voice and sang : 

O hear the joyful sound, 

O hear the joyful sound, 

O hear the joyful sound. 

Come to breakfast 1” 

Tom did not reflect that Eusebius also had 
served his apprenticeship at hard work on the 
farm. He merely contrasted their present condi- 
tions. 

^That’s right,” he muttered, ^^sing ! You have 
an easy time of it.” 

As he replaced the bars Gus joined him from 
the stable, and they went up to the house together. 


CHAPTEE II 


UNANSWEEED QUESTIONS 

They found the rest of the family assembled in 
the parlor, awaiting the arrival of the Bishop. 
Presently he came in, looking like a giant re- 
freshed, for though he was now sixty years of age 
he always slept as soundly as a boy. 

In spite of his domestic dressing-gown and slip- 
pers he seemed a Jove-like figure, or one of the old 
prophets on whose brow sat sacerdotal authority 
and the serene consciousness of a divine commis- 
sion. His figure was tall and still unbent. His 
head was large and beautiful in outline. The white 
hair and heard framed a face stern and seamed by 
a long life of conflict. His brow was broad, his 
nose long and straight as an ancient Greek’s, and 
his blue eyes were magnetic. Back of his great 
personality one saw in imagination the long line of 
the Apostolic Succession, and in his presence a 
doubt concerning the validity of the Anglican 
position became an impertinence. 

The Bishop looked around to see that no one was 
absent, and after the morning prayers had been 
said they all passed out to breakfast. The children 
kissed their parents as they passed by; Eusebius, 
12 


UNAITSWEEED QUESTIOITS 


13 


Basil, Stephen, Tom, Gns, Cecily, and Cyprian, 
in their order. 

Mrs. Ambrose’s features were large and regular, 
like her husband’s, and seemed to give ^ coloring of 
truth to the theory that married people, after many 
years, come to resemble each other. Intellectually, 
however, they were far from equal. Her mental 
pabulum consisted of hooks of devotion, of a few 
old-fashioned novels, and of such portions of her 
husband’s conversation as she could appreciate. 
The Bishop was her oracle ; her Church and house- 
hold duties were her acknowledged sphere of ac- 
tion. 

When the blessing was pronounced Eusebius 
alone made the sign of the cross. The children 
eyed the huge howl of mush hungrily and were 
glad when the praying was over and the portions 
began to start down the sides of the long table. 
Mrs. Ambrose poured coffee for her husband and 
herself and the three oldest sons. Tom and Gus 
always felt that they would gladly exchange all the 
rest of the meal for one cup of the, forbidden bev- 
erage. 

The breakfast was short and noisy. There was 
a babel of tongues and a clatter of spoons. Little 
Cyp was digging persistently at the bottom of his 
bowl for the last sweet remnant of brown sugar. 
Cecily, sitting opposite, was engaged in active and 
exaggerated mimicry, at which Tom giggled. 


14 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


^'Taste good slie queried. ^'Sip, Cyppy, sip 

Cyprian desisted and turned his appealing, in- 
jured blue eyes to his mother. 

^^That will do, my dear,” said Mrs. ^Smbrose, 
gently. ^^Don’t tease the child.” 

The Bishop roused himself from an apparent 
reverie and spoke. Cecily dodged instinctively be- 
hind Basil, for she thought that her sin had found 
her out. But her father had not noticed the inci- 
dent ; he had a more important matter on his mind. 

have a piece of good news for you all,” he an- 
nounced. ^^Bernard’s wife is coming home to live 
with us.” 

Mrs. Ambrose put her handkerchief to her eyes, 
and Cyprian began to whimper in sympathy. Even 
he could recall that dark day, about a year before, 
when they heard of the death of this brother whom 
he could scarcely remember. Every one had cried, 
but his father’s grief had been terrible to him. 
It was as if God had cried. There were no lessons 
that day, and he had fallen asleep in the clothes- 
basket in the kitchen where he lay until his mother 
came with a candle and took him up stairs to bed. 

Bernard’s departure for California a few years 
before had been scarcely less tragic than his sud- 
den death. 

The Bishop exacted from his family an absolute 
obedience, not only in action but even in belief, 
and Bernard alone had dared to argue with him 


TTNANSWERED QUESTIONS 


16 


concerning the doctrines of the Church. When he 
returned from Kenyon College, whither he had 
been sent to study for the ministry, the smoulder- 
ing antagonism hetweeen his father and himself 
hurst into a sudden flame. The Bishop’s hook on 
the Evidences seemed to his son only the work of 
a special pleader, and he refused to accept the 
premises. The two giants, neither of whom knew 
how to yield, joined battle on the ancient ground 
of controversy. 

At such times, Mrs. Ambrose would retire to her 
bedroom and fall upon her knees in an agony of 
tears and prayer, while the sound of the violent 
altercation echoed through the house. 

The difference of opinion was irreconcilable, 
but when Bernard went to seek his fortune in the 
West he departed with his father’s blessing. The 
Bishop was passionate and tyrannical, but he could 
not take an austere farewell of his first-born. He 
firmly believed that Bernard would one day see 
his mistake and return to the Church of his fa- 
thers. Almost his last words were to the effect that 
he would pray daily with that end in view. His 
prayers seemed to have been answered, for Bernard 
wrote home of meeting Bishop Kip, and of his 
pleasure in the acquaintance. This was slender 
evidence of a change of heart, but to the Bishop 
it was sufficiently definite. He divined the pride 
that would not allow his son to admit his mistake. 


16 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


His ^ief was softened by the apparent answer to 
bis prayers. How Bernard’s wife, of whom they 
knew almost nothing, was to come to them for 
shelter from the world. 

^^Is she pretty asked Cecily, who, already, at 
the age of thirteen, was conscious of her own 
beauty. 

Tom whispered to Gus : ^‘1 suppose she’ll have 
coffee and white sugar.” 

want you all to be very kind to her, for Ber- 
nard’s sake,” the Bishop said. ^^She is quite alone 
in the world and is coming to be your sister.^’ 

Stephen, the musician and cynic, kicked the leg 
of the table irritably. 

^^Why didn’t she stay where she was?” he de- 
manded. ^^Husbands are plenty in California, I 
hear, and that’s all a woman wants.” 

He had become a privileged character and his 
speeches were never taken at their par value; 
nevertheless, his father thought it necessary to re- 
prove him gravely : 

^^Stephen, I believe you were born with an objec- 
tion in your mouth.” 

Mrs. Ambrose’s unsuspecting heart was glad. 
She would have a new daughter who would help 
in the management of her large- household and talk 
with her about California, that fabled land whose 
rivers rolled down sands of gold. Above all, they 
would have their mutual love for Bernard to draw 


UHANSWERED QITESTIOITS 


17 


them together. Happy in this thought, she called 
Cecily to bring her sewing to her room. The Bishop 
retired to his study to work on his great hook in 
support of slavery as an institution sanctioned by 
the authority of the Bible. 

It lacked still half an hour of school time. Euse- 
bius and Stephen strayed into the parlor, which 
was also the music-room of the house. Along the 
walls of this room, at intervals, were little cluster 
shafts connected by spandrels above. Dark oak 
beams crossed the ceiling diagonally. The organ 
stood at one side, its somewhat ornate case rising 
to the beams above. Two angels, carved in wood 
by Eusebius, flanked the pipes on each side, their 
garments blown back about their feet, holding long, 
thin, gilded trumpets to their lips. A square piano 
occupied the opposite space between the windows 
that faced the bay. A harp stood in the corner, 
and in their proper plaoe-s on the wall hung other 
musical instruments. 

The Bishop believed in making a merry noise 
unto the Lord, and could play all of these instru- 
ments fairly well. He was the leader of the fam- 
ily orchestra. His theory of education insisted 
on music for all his children. Each was obliged 
to practice at a definite hour of the day, until he 
had attained som-e measure of success or had dem- 
onstrated beyond a doubt that he had no music in 
his soul. Scarcely ever was there a cessation of 


18 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


sounds in the house, sweet or discordant, according 
to the ability of the performer. 

A great fireplace occupied much of the wall next 
to the dining-room and about this, as about the 
Eoman focus of old, the family life centered. 
Especially was this so in the winter time, when 
the backlog blazed at night and threw out a light 
sufiicient for reading or chess. This was the scene 
of many a debate between the Bishop and Euse- 
bius, when they sat and smoked their pipes, the 
puff filial responding to the pufi paternal. 

The place of honor over the fireplace was given 
to a copy of Eaphaefis Madonna della Seggiola, 
done by the Bishop^s own hand. In the lower left- 
hand corner appeared, in a neat cursive writing, 
the inscription Ambrose fecit. There were also 
several of his landscapes upon the walls. Painting 
in oils was perhaps the one thing he undertook to 
do without credit, hut no one in the family sus- 
pected this except Eusebius. 

The large, two-storied house, situated on the 
shore of Lake Erie near the mouth of the Maumee 
Eiver, was in itself a compendious history of the 
Bishop’s waxing fortunes. The kitchen, built of 
logs squared at the end and filled in with sun-dried 
mortar, was the nucleus out of which the whole had 
grown. It nestled closely, as if for protection, 
against the larger and newer portion. The front 
wall of the larger part suggested the collegiate 


UNANSWEEED QUESTIONS 


19 


Gothic, with its buttresses, pinnacles, Tudor arches 
over the doors, and hood moldings above the win- 
dows. 

The Bishop himself was the architect and, in 
part, the builder of his home ; and if the result of 
his labors was somewhat incongruous it never- 
theless suggested comfort and hospitality. The 
roof looked like a pair of sheltering wings. When 
the front door stood open it disclosed a wide hall 
extending to the kitchen. The floor of this hall 
was covered by a rag carpet of many colors, the 
work of the busy Angers of Mrs. Ambrose and her 
helpers. Even the boys had been pressed into the 
service of tearing up old garments, sewing them 
into strips, and rolling them into balls. 

The study in which the Bishop worked was op- 
posite the music-room. It was carpeted by a red 
ingrain that had formerly done duty in the chan- 
cel of the church in the city. The flgure, wrought 
in black, resembled church windows, row above 
row. The pictures on the walls were strictly sacer- 
dotal in character; steel engravings representing 
Da Vinci’s Last Supper, the Miraculous Draft of 
Eishes, Saint Paul on the Areopagus, and several 
Madonnas. 

The Bishop’s table of polished oak was littered 
with all the appurtenances of the scholar. It held 
also his long pipe and large box of tobacco. He had 
jiot begun to smoke until past his fiftieth year, 


20 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


but with characteristic energy be consumed enor- 
mous quantities of the weed. 

The wall opposite the windows was lined with 
books to the ceiling, the accumulation of many 
years. One by one, as he could afford it, he had 
bought the works of the Fathers and Hardouin’s 
great collection of the Councils. Though largely 
self-taught, he had yet been able to read thor- 
oughly the whole of this large collection, a feat 
which almost no other bishop of the Church had 
dreamed of accomplishing. 

In addition to theological books, he possessed 
also most of the great English classics from Chau- 
cer to Tennyson. In this sanctum he spent many 
days in almost unintermittent labor when the 
fever was on him. As yet his wonderful con- 
stitution had stood the strain and he bid fair to 
rival the scholastic achievements of Didymus, the 
brazen-bowelled. 

As the Bishop’s pen sped rapidly over the 
pages of his manuscript he smiled at the sound 
of Stephen’s music on the organ in the room 
across the hall. His nerves could stand even dis- 
cords, but when Stephen played he found the mu- 
sic inspiring and wrote with unusual rapidity. 

In the music-room Eusebius stood by the win- 
dow, a monkish figure, with his fine head and at- 
tractive, irregular features. He turned to watcK 
his brothers at the organ; Stephen bending over 


UNANSWERED QUESTIONS 


21 


the keys, indulging his fancy in strange improvisa- 
tions, and Cyprian toiling patiently at the bellows. 

Suddenly the musician whirled about and faced 
his brother. The impish smile on his face por- 
tended one of his characteristic remarks. He 
pointed meaningly over his shoulder at the faces 
of the carved angels above him. 

^^When she comes,’’ he said, chuckling, ^There’ll 
be a pretty kettle of fish to fry.” 

^^Are you talking about angels?” Eusebius 
asked, following the gesture with his eyes. 

^^Oh, I know where you got the idea for those 
faces you carved; the daguerreotype of Bernard’s 
wife. You’ll find she’s no angel.” 

The young priest felt a vague disquiet. There 
was something unearthly in his brother’s nervous, 
maliciously excited face. 

She’ll turn out to be a fool,” Stephen con- 
tinued, turning and nodding at the carved faces, 
^^a fool.” 


CHAPTEK III 


THE GATHEEIHQ STORM 

Eusebius sat at his desk in the school-room, his 
merry, bead-like eyes twinkling at his students 
through a pair of large, steel-rimmed spectacles. 
It was partly owing to these glasses that he had 
been dubbed ^^Spectacles,” or ‘'Spec,” by his 
brothers ; but the sobriquet was appropriate in an- 
other way as a jocose explanation of his name: 
You-see-by-us. 

There were about forty pupils in the school. 
Besides the sons of tho family, there were schol- 
ars from neighboring farms and from among the 
Bishop’s rich parishioners in town. Those who 
came from a distance kept their horses in a shed 
near by, and during school hours an occasional 
friendly whinny reminded some wistful master of 
the gallop that awaited him when his task should 
be done. 

Two or three lithe, dark-eyed lads from Erench 
Camp sat in the back of the room. Tom and Gus 
had frolicked with them the night before, but they 
never presumed on their knowledge of the mis- 
doings of the Bishop’s sons. They knew, also, that 
Tom’s fist would speedily avenge any treachery, 
22 


THE GATIIEEING STOEM 


23 


and they accepted his leadership with almost ca- 
nine loyalty. 

The school was a plain, two-storied, wooden 
building. In the second story Eusebius had his 
study. There, too, were the rooms of students of 
theology, when the Bishop could get any to live 
and study with him. At the present time they 
were unoccupied, and the young priest slept alone 
in the building. However dark the night, he never 
felt lonely, nor could the creaking of boards, the 
slamming of a shutter, or the wind in the eaves 
shake his nerves. Ilis thoughts were too busy for 
ghostly visitants. 

Eusebius was his father’s staff of support. He 
never thought of taking a wife nor of seeking a 
higher position than that of the Bishop’s assistant 
rector. He was born in a century alien to his 
nature, he would have fitted admirably into the 
society of the Middle Ages. He was a student of 
theology and ecclesiology and delighted in the ut- 
most ramifications of his specialty. His nature 
was richly endowed, as if in compensation for his 
lack of physical beauty. He had inherited his 
mother’s warm heart, and his ready wit often 
brought down upon him his father’s reproof. His 
personality was magnetic, but elusive and strange. 
Even if he never accomplished any great work 
those who knew him would always be firmly con- 
vinced that he was a genius. 


24 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


He was a born teacher, and somehow imparted 
a great deal of information in the midst of a great 
deal of noise. He loved to make a fact attractive 
bj associating with it some other fact, and not in- 
frequently the association was so ludicrous that 
he joined in his students’ mirth like a boy. On this 
morning, as the class in history was reciting, he 
called attention to the fact that there were three 
s’s in the Battle of Issus and three 3’s in the date. 
With these he associated three A’s, for Aristotle, 
Alexander and Alexandria. 

He had just finished writing these facts on the 
board to be copied when the door opened and the 
Bishop came into the room. The effect of his 
appearance was magical. The hundred little noises 
of the school subsided. Shuffling feet became 
rigid ; restless eyes were turned from the open win- 
dows and fixed intently on the books. 

He seated himself in a chair on the rostrum by 
the side of his son. In the clear light of noon the 
deep lines of his face were more apparent. The 
freshness of morning was gone and three hours 
of hard work on his book had left him weary 
and uninspired. His white mustache and beard 
were slightly stained by the smoke of his pipe. 

According to his custom when he visited the 
school he began to examine the students in various 
subjects. It was apparent that he lacked his son’s 
sympathy and that the boys feared him. He al- 


THE GATHERING STORM 


25 


ways dealt more severely with his own sons than 
with the others, for he said that they had a better 
knowledge of the right. He felt also that they 
ought to have more ability, considering their re- 
lationship to himself. The acquirements of his 
older hoys went far toward justifying his pride, 
but Tom and Gus were slow students and tried 
his patience sorely. He selected Augustine for 
his first victim. The boy, as usual, made a poor 
showing. 

^^Augustine,” he said, impressively, named 
you after the learned Bishop of Hippo, one of the 
greatest fathers of the Church. Up to this time 
you have been a disappointment to me. You are 
now fifteen years old. If you do not show a de- 
cided improvement very soon I shall begin to de- 
spair of your future.’^ 

Gus looked sullen and shuffled uneasily from 
one foot to the other. If his father had only named 
him after Daniel Boone ! 

Still, the great Augustine was slow in turning 
to the Lord. Some of the best apples ripen late. 
Saint Paul himself was possessed of a more fiery 
zeal because of the memory of his wasted years. 
I hope and pray it may be so with you, my son.^’ 
There was a short silence. 

^Ts it possible,^’ he resumed, going back to the 
question on which the boy had last failed, ^That 
you donT know the difference between the active 


26 


THE riGHTIKa BISHOP 


and passive voice ? Let me illustrate. If I say, 

flog Augustine/ tlie verb is in the active voice, 
but if I say, ^Augustine is flogged by me,’ the verb 
is passive. Don’t you see the difference?” 

Augustine still looked puzzled. At last he an- 
swered : 

sir, I don’t. It seems to me I get the flog- 
ging either way.” 

Eusebius’s eyes danced. He began to suspect 
that his brother had been hiding his light hitherto 
under a bushel. 

As for the Bishop, he laughed one of his rare 
and gigantic laughs. The unaccustomed merri- 
ment seemed to rend him and come forth. The 
whole school was in an uproar of delight, the 
Bishop leading. There was something almost ter- 
rifying in his passion of mirth. He ceased as 
suddenly as he had begun, and the room again be- 
came quiet. The two men exchanged a look of 
mutual understanding. 

‘^He’s beginning to show signs of intelligence 
at last,” the Bishop declared, his voice trembling 
and his eyes moist. ^^That’s right, boys. A merry 
heart is pleasing to the Lord. King David danced 
before the Ark of the Covenant. I would not have 
you think that life is all work.” 

He paused and looked out of the window. The 
squadrons of white clouds which had sailed stead- 
ily across the sky all the morning, throwing 


THE GATHEEINa STOEM 


27 


patches of running shadow on the yellow grain, 
had begun to thicken. A sudden gust of cooler 
wind came in through the open windows and sent 
sheets of loose paper spinning down the aisle. 

^^It looks like rain,” he continued. must 

get the hay in this afternoon. That will do for 
to-day. Come to dinner at once, and then to the 
fields.” 


CHAPTEE IV 


THE MAKE OF THE BEAST 

The morning’s promise of a storm was not ful- 
filled. The clouds grew darker and a few large 
scattering drops were hurled against the windows 
as the family sat at dinner. Then the storm veered 
and passed off to the north. As they went forth 
into the fields the sun shone out and they saw the 
rain coming down in long streaks over Lake Erie. 
The city students were allowed a half holiday and 
soon their horses were heard clattering down the 
road. 

All the afternoon the sons of the Bishop and the 
hired men worked steadily, and hy five o’clock the 
last wagon with its huge, trembling load of hay 
turned slowly from the field. The open window 
of the great ham yawned like an insatiable and 
devouring mouth. They had been feeding hay into 
it for hours and still there was room. Long wisps 
hung over the sill unswallowed. 

Eusebius had returned to his books and Stephen 
to his practicing. Basil and Jake were pitching 
up the last load. In the mow above Gus received 
the hay and threw it back, while Cyp and Cis trod 
28 


THE MARK OF THE BEAST 


29 


it down witli merry shouts and tireless energy, 
though the heat was stifling. 

Tom slipped away and went off to the woods 
alone. He stood a moment at the edge of the trees 
and looked hack. Ho one had noticed his deser- 
tion. He pressed his hand to his side to make sure 
of something in his pocket and then rapidly con- 
tinued his course. In a few minutes the narrow 
belt of woods was traversed and he came out 
upon the bay shore. Seating himself on a log 
he pulled from his pocket a crumpled cigar, saved 
from the previous night’s party, and began to 
smoke. He had smoked enough before to be free 
from the dread of sickness, but not enough to dull 
his sense of taste or smell. How, after the weari- 
ness induced by last night’s frolic and the long 
afternoon in the fields, the bitter tang of the weed 
and its fragrant odor were peculiarly soothing 
and grateful. 

He looked up and down the shore, but no one 
was in sight. Only a few cows stood knee-deep in 
the muddy water, lazily switching off the flies. 
The boat, tied to the little wooden pier, chopped 
about in the sunset breeze. 

Here there was no bold coast-line, but the 
marshy shore, obstructed by a wilderness of under- 
growth and weeds, faded away into the yellow 
and quiet water like a long-fringed mantle of 
green. Hither the boys sometimes came to swim 


80 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


in the late afternoons. 'At snch times Basil would 
sit under the trees with his book and watch them 
wade out, barking their shins against hidden logs, 
until only their ruddy shoulders reflected the set- 
ting sun. At last their heads would be seen, bob- 
bing like corks, half a mile from shore. 

About three miles to the north was Turtle Island 
and its lighthouse. There the yellow water be- 
came bluer under the sky, as it rose to the horizon. 
!N^ow, as Tom looked, the windows shone like mir- 
rors. He threw his large straw hat to the ground, 
baring his head to the breeze. 

He was a handsome, stalwart boy, with a cowlick 
of rebellious hair above his forehead, a freckled 
skin and a wide mouth. There was something 
bold, almost insolent, in the glance of his dark 
eyes. He had an infinite capacity for physical joy 
and a longing for the experiences of manhood. 
As he sat there, carefully holding the loosened 
wrapper of his cigar in place and blowing out 
clouds of smoke, his thoughts went back to his 
conversation with Gus in the morning. His imag- 
ination, stimulated by the narcotic weed, made 
long marches into the future. 

He saw himself in a great city, wearing black 
clothes and a white collar every day. There would 
be no more of the Greek and Latin he hated, but 
instead his mind would be busy with something 
iworth while, with the affairs of business. Hothing 


THE MAEK OF THE BEAST 


31 


seemed more dreary to him than continual church- 
going and the life in a bishop’s family. In the 
evening he would come back to his hoarding- 
house. There he would find gay young fellows, 
with whom he could he friendly. He wanted to 
smoke and drink* and play cards with them. Al- 
ready he knew the taste of heer and whisky. He 
longed to drink a great deal, just once, to feel the 
strange excitement of intoxication running 
through his veins without the fear of the home- 
coming and his father’s kiss and a possible dis- 
covery. And he wanted to know women; not 
house-working, church-going women, but women 
who wore gay dresses and were willing to have 
a ^^good time.” He would ride in a closed carriage 
through the lighted streets with such an one and 
take her to the theater. What adventures might 
not befall him? His pulses beat fast as he pic- 
tured himself on the train that was bearing him 
away from drudgery and espionage to the joy and 
the fulness of life. He rose to his feet; his eyes 
burned and his hand shook. 

The evening shadows warned him that he must 
go back to the house and draw the wate.r for sup- 
per and he said fiercely to himself as he strode 
along that it would be the last time. He heard Jake 
calling ^^Cu-boss, cu-boss !” He wished still to be 
alone, so he took a short cut through the bushes 
and avoided a meeting. 


32 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


The Bishop was returning from an inspection 
of the barn as Tom took the pails and went toward 
the well. The boy saw that they must meet. Por- 
tunately, it was not the time for the regular morn- 
ing or evening kiss and the chance that his father 
might not discover him by his breath was good. 
Besides, he might have been smoking so recently 
himself as to dull his sense of smell. 

Tom’s hopes were fatuous. The Bishop, 
wearied with his morning’s writing, had spent the 
afternoon in the fields. As he saw his son coming 
toward him in all the healthy vigor of his young 
manhood his heart warmed with parental pride. 
Moved by a sudden impulse of affection he took the 
boy by the shoulders and kissed him. 

Tom’s heart gave a great thump and his fingers 
tightened on the handles of the pails. The Bishop 
detected the strong odor of the cigar and stood 
thunderstruck. His son, then, had dared to dis- 
obey him a second time. Once before he had dis- 
covered him smoking and had thrashed him un- 
mercifully. With a sudden rage that sometimes 
came upon him like insanity, his face blanched 
and his blue eyes blazed. 

^^How many times have I told you not to 
smoke, sir ?” he demanded, in a voice that vibrated 
with passion. He strove to stem the rising torrent 
of his wrath, but in vain. Ho would be obeyed, 
and he longed to strike. This must be the last time 


THE MARK OF THE BEAST 33 

his rebellions son would dare to flout his will. 

you didn’t kiss me so often it would he a 
good thing/’ Tom replied, sullenly, though his 
voice trembled with sickening fear. 

In another second it had happened. The 
Bishop’s right hand clenched. Then came the dull 
thud of a blow. Tom fell like a log, the pails roll- 
ing and rattling on the ground. He struggled to 
his feet, a great purple welt beginning to rise on 
his forehead. His own nature was pugnacious and 
daring. He had often demonstrated his flstic 
ability in fights with the sons of neighboring 
farmers. He knew that he could whip his father 
then and there, yet such was the control of that im- 
perious nature over him that he would have al- 
lowed himself to be killed rather than lift a hand 
in his own defense. 

^Hon’t dare to disobey me again!” the Bishop 
thundered, now beside himself with rage. The 
first blow seemed to have increased his anger to 
fury. A second time he fell upon his son, and 
leaving him sprawling in the dirt he strode away 
to the house. 

Tom crawled after his pails and limped with 
difficulty to the well. Gus, who had witnessed the 
terrible scene, now came up, trembling with in- 
dignation. 

^^The old devil !” he muttered. The Bishop no 
longer seemed his father. He pumped a stream of 


34 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


cold, refresliing water on his brother’s head, and 
when they returned to the house he carried the 
pails himself. 

Meanwhile the Bishop was standing by the 
kitchen door, his hat in his hand, looking toward 
the west. The great storm of passion had swept 
over him and left him weak. The mansion of his 
soul was swept and garnished ; the evil visitors had 
departed and. made way for loving thoughts. He 
looked at the deep blue sky of the evening, crossed 
by a pearl-colored strip of mackerel cloud, and at 
the sun sinking behind the woods in tranquil splen- 
dor. He was thinking of the words of Saint 
Paul to the Ephesians : ^He ye angry, and sin not; 
let not the sun go down upon your wrath.” The 
sun, now fiery red, was just dropping below the 
green wall of the forest as the two boys came up 
to the door. 

fine evening, father,” said Tom, with an air 
of bravado. He had no wish for reconciliation, 
but it was his pride, to act as if nothing had hap- 
pened. Eor answer his father stepped toward him 
and threw his arms about his neck with a yearning 
cry: 

^^My son, my son, I wish I could have taken 
your punishment myself!” 

Tom stood still and submitted, but his heart 
gave no answering throb. Only a cold scorn made 
him smile. 


CHAPTEE V 


TODEK THE QTJIVERIHG ASPENS 

After supper the beauty of the evening invited 
the family out of doors. As a special dispensation 
because of their hard work in the fields the usual 
study hour was omitted. Eusebius went to his room. 
He was at work on a thesis for his master’s de- 
gree. Tom sat on the fence, in the shadows down 
by the gate and carved his initials on the top 
board while he brooded over his wrongs. Mrs. 
Ambrose sat by her husband’s side watching the 
evening star and searching for the points of light 
that began to prick the deep blue spaces of the sky 
as the afterglow faded from the tree tops. She 
had taken Tom to her room and cried over him and 
begged him for her sake not to disobey his father 
again. How she was dreaming of the days when 
that father had been her lover, riding by her side 
on horseback over the lonely roads of the Alle- 
ghany Mountains. 

The Bishop peacefully pufied his long pipe. He 
too was absorbed in thought, but it was neither of 
the romantic days of long ago, nor of the stormy 
scene with his son, nor of the calm beauty of the 
evening. He was thinking of the troubles in Han- 
35 


THE FiaHTIHG BISHOP 


sas and of tlie impending rebellion in Utah, where 
Brigham Yonng was bidding defiance to the gov- 
ernor sent ont by President Buchanan and calling 
on the Mormons to resist the ^^armed mercenary 
mob of invaders.” Polygamy was as certainly an 
Old Testament institution as slavery, and his mind 
was busy with a train of thought which would 
prove that the former had been done away with by 
the ISTew Dispensation, while the latter had been 
left untouched. 

Basil, not many feet away, was lying on the 
ground with the two children, Cecily and Cyprian, 
telling them the story of the Town Mouse and the 
Country Mouse. Above their heads the quivering 
aspens on either side of the door gave forth a pleas- 
ant murmur of leaves. The fragrance of the old- 
fashioned flowers that bordered the walk seemed 
stronger in the twilight. 

The Bishop little realized that this son also 
would disappoint his cherished hope in regard to 
the ministry. The young man, just returned from 
college, was apparently in sympathy with the plan 
and gave much time to study, but underneath his 
seeming acquiescence lay a hidden protest that grew 
day by day. He had already come to the conclu- 
sion that his father’s attitude toward slavery was 
wrong, and he was even beginning to question the 
validity of certain Church doctrines. But these 
things gave him less concern than they might have 


UNDER THE QUIVERING ASPENS 37 

done had his imagination been free, for Basil was 
in love. 

When the story was finished he resisted loud ap- 
peals for another and strolled away to the school 
where he saw the light in his eldest brother’s win- 
dow. The children, disappointed in their hope, 
turned to their parents. 

^Tather,” Cecily demanded, ^^tell us a story.” 
The Bishop laid do’wn his pipe and took her on his 
knee, while Cyprian went to his mother. 

^^What shall it he V’ he asked indulgently, pat- 
ting her cheek. 

^^Tell us how you came, to marry mother.” 

^^But surely, you know that by heart,” he ob- 
jected. 

^^That don’t matter ; tell it again,” she insisted. 
She was an only daughter and a spoiled child. 

Thus admonished, he began at the beginning 
with the ^^Once upon a time,” without which no 
story for children is complete. 

He had come with his parents to America in the 
year 1800, when three years of age, and his father 
had died shortly after their arrival in Philadel- 
phia. His mother, from whom he inherited his 
great ability, supported herself and child by teach- 
ing music and French in a fashionable school. In 
spite of her hard struggle she managed to give her 
boy the advantages of a course in the William 
Penn Charter School. He repaid her devotion 


38 


THE EIGIITING BISHOP 


by giving up his university career to teach in or- 
der that she might rest. In the evenings he studied 
law and was admitted to the bar when scarcely 
of age. His success was assured’ from the be- 
ginning and his friends urged him to enter pol- 
itics. At this time he was one of the most popular 
young men of the town. His musical and conver- 
sational gifts made him a welcome guest at the 
best houses, and his professional prospects were 
brilliant. Among men his strong personality made 
him pronounced friends or enemies, and he ac- 
cepted them both as his due. 

His mother’s death, early in his career, changed 
the current of his thoughts. She was his one real 
friend, for his proud nature admitted no other in- 
timate. One night he wandered aimlessly into old 
Saint John’s, and there he heard Bishop Chase 
tell of his efforts to extend the Church in the wil- 
derness of Ohio. It was the turning point of his 
life. He was weary of the fashionable world and 
his spirit was stirred to a longing for adventure. 
He turned his possessions into money and started 
west on horseback. 

He was riding one evening over the mountains, 
wondering where he should find shelter for the 
night, when he saw the light of a camp fire by the 
trail. He slung his gun across his saddle-bow in 
readiness for hostility and hailed the campers. 
They proved to be a German family of fallen for- 


UNDER THE QUIVERING ASPENS 39 

tunes that had been driven from Hamburg hj the 
occupation of Hapoleon. With a few mementos 
of more prosperous days, they were, journeying 
in big canvas-covered wagons into the heart of the 
wilderness. 

They gave the new-comer a cheery welcome. 
They had killed some game by the way and were 
preparing a dinner of which he gratefully partook. 
The fresh-cheeked girl who handed him a Benja- 
min’s portion was his future wife. 

shall never forget how tall and handsome you 
looked !” Mrs. Ambrose exclaimed. was think- 
ing about it to-night. You came out of the dark- 
ness like a giant and you were splashed with mud 
from head to foot. It had been raining that day 
and we had to wait until the roads grew drier. We 
were so glad to have another man in the party, 
for we were afraid of Indians ” 

^^And bears,” put in Cyprian. 

^^Yes, and bears,” she assented. ^^Do you re- 
member, Patrick, the time you carried me across 
the brook? We had fallen a little behind the 
others.” 

^^Yes,” he said. His eyes kindled, but more 
with the memory of the adventures that ensued 
than with the thought of his early love. ^^At first 
we lived at Gambier, but after awhile we came 
north to Lake Erie. I thought there would be a 
good chance in the lumber business. Toledo was 


4:0 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


only a swamp then, with a few buildings scattered 
about Fort Industry, where the brick block of that 
name now stands. We took a farm near Maumee 
and I practiced a little at the law ; so we managed 
to get along pretty well. That was twelve years 
after the siege of Fort Meigs, at Perryshurg, 
across the river. The earthworks were more dis- 
tinct then than they are now, and we used to find 
skulls and tomahawks.’’ 

found an Indian arrowhead on the bay 
shore,” Cyprian volunteered. 

^^That’s nothing,” his sister rejoined. ^T’ve 
found a hundred. Besides, yours was only a fish 
bone, anyhow.” 

^Tt wasn’t, either !” 

^Tt was !” 

The Bishop, remembering his old profession, 
turned judge once more, and after the dispute had 
been settled he complied with a demand for the 
continuance of the story. 

^^And then, after awhile, Bernard came.” 

^^Did he come from Philadelphia, too ?” queried 
Cyp. 

All her years in America had not caused Mrs. 
Ambrose to forget the legends and sentiment of 
her fatherland. The reply that rose instinctively 
to her lips was the same she had heard from her 
mother in childhood. 


Uiq-DER THE QUIVERIHG ASPEHS 41 

dearie/’ she said. ^^The good storks 
brought him from the south in the spring.” 

^^And did the storks bring me, too?” he per- 
sisted. It did not impress him as strange that no 
storks ever visited them now. He had seen them 
in Andersen’s fairy tales standing on one leg 
above the thatched roof. 

^^Ho, you came down the chimney. Santa Claus 
brought you ; don’t you remember ?” 

^^That’s why you always have a dirty face,” his 
sister explained. didn’t come down the chim- 
ney.” 

‘^You couldn’t, that’s why,” he retorted sturdily. 
^^Santa Claus wouldn’t bring you.” 

Cecily could think of no fitting retort, so she 
begged her father to go on. 

^^We saw that Perrysburg and Maumee weren’t 
going to amount to much; they were too far up 
the river. That’s the reason we came down to the 
Lake and settled here. But we came too far. The 
city was finally built between.” 

Then he told them of the so-called ^^Toledo 
War,” which occurred in Jackson’s administra- 
tion, when the promising young town was the bone 
of contention between Ohio and Michigan, 

One day a thousand men from Michigan 
marched down to prevent a sitting of the Ohio 
Court of Common Pleas, and it was Judge Am- 
brose who held the session in a school-house at day- 


42 


THE FIGHTIHO BISHOP 


break, so that the Michiganders inarched back 
again baffled. In those stormy days he helped 
Ohio to win the fight and keep Toledo in the state. 

Meanwhile he was active in religions work. It 
suited his temperament to remain loyal to the least 
popular church, the church derived from Amer- 
icans traditional enemy. He regularly performed 
the duties of a lay reader, and when the rector 
died he was asked by the congregation to take his 
place. 

He gave up his lucrative profession for a mere 
pittance to obey the call, which he regarded as of 
divine inspiration. 

He studied theology with characteristic energy 
and rode all the way to Gambler on horseback to 
be ordained deacon. He took priest’s orders within 
the shortest limit prescribed by the canons of the 
Church, and in ten years he was consecrated the 
first Bishop of the Diocese of Toledo. 

When the story was finished Cyprian was sound 
asleep in his mother’s arms, lulled into uncon- 
sciousness by her deep breathing. The, Bishop 
sent Cecily to call the others to prayers, and she 
went off down the path, stopping at intervals to 
answer the hoot of an owl somewhere in the dark- 
ness. In a few minutes they were all assembled in 
the living room. The Bishop read a chapter in 
the great brass-bound Bible and after the prayers 
they sang a hymn, Stephen played the organ and 


UNDER THE QUIVERING ASPENS 43 

his father took the air with his flute, while Euse- 
bius played the ’cello. Above all the voices that 
of Mrs. Ambrose rose sweet and clear, almost as 
mellow and full as when in early days she had 
charmed her lover with her simple German songs. 

The music was one of the Bishop’s own composi- 
tions. Its melodious measures showed the influ- 
ence of Pleyel and Haydn. It was a fit setting to 
the beauty of Heale’s translation of the fine old 
hymn of Anatolius: 

The day is past and over : 

All thanks, O Lord, to Thee ! 

I pray Thee that oflenseless 
The hours of dark may be. 

O Jesu, keep me in Thy sight, 

And save me through the coming night ! 

Lighten mine eyes, 0 Savior, 

Or sleep in death shall I, 

And he, my wakeful tempter. 
Triumphantly shall cry: 

^^He could not make their darkness light, 

Hor guard them through the hours of night.” 

Be Thou my soul’s preserver, 

O God, for Thou dost know 

How many are the perils 

Through which I have to go. 

Lover of men, oh, hear my call. 

And guard and save me from them all ! 


44 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


Something clutched at Tom’s throat as he sang 
and his voice grew still. The plan he had formed 
out in the dark alone seemed like an evil dream. 
He looked at his mother’s rapt face and the tears 
came into his eyes. Yet later, when he lay awake 
by his brother’s side, the evil thoughts returned 
and he hardened his heart anew. 


CHAPTEK YI 


SOWING THE WIND 

At the breakfast table the next morning the 
Bishop detailed Basil and Tom to drive to town for 
Bernard’s wife, who was to arrive on the three 
o’clock train. He was deep in his work and could 
not spare the time even for such an important er- 
rand, while Mrs. Ambrose wished to remain at 
home to get things in ^^apple-pie order” against 
Anna’s coming at supper time. 

To Tom the morning dragged like the chariots 
of Pharaoh in the Red Sea. He had awakened 
with the cloud of resentment heavy upon his mind, 
and not even his father’s kindness in sending him 
to town could soften his mood. , He listened to 
Basil’s patient explanations of algebraic formula3 
and to Eusebius’s elucidation of Virgil with equal 
indifference. 

For the first time his environment seemed alien. 
Often the desire to run away from home had sim- 
mered angrily in his mind. How, in the light of 
his renewed determination, it seemed to be already 
an accomplished fact. 

He looked about the familiar room and said to 
himself: ^^This time to-morrow I shall not be 
45 


46 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


here/’ The thought gave him a sudden thrill of 
pleasurable and yet fearful emotion. 

Good old ^^Spec” and Basil would be there just 
the same. They seemed to like the humdrum 
round of teaching and work. Gus would stumble 
through his lessons and lose his way in a gram- 
matical dust-cloud raised by Caesar’s marching 
men, and Cyp would enjoy the privileges of a pet 
as usual ; hut where would he he ? He. drew a deep 
breath. At least, he would be his own master. 

He pictured himself returning home some day 
in a fine suit of clothes, as Franklin returned to 
Boston after his first sojourn in Philadelphia. All 
the boys would stand around in envy and admira- 
tion. He could not decide whether to come in a 
carriage or on horseback. A hired rig and two 
horses seemed more imposing. He saw his father 
treating him respectfully and heard him express 
the hope that he had forgotten the tyrannies of 
the past. One thing he resolved, that no matter 
what hardships he had to endure he would not send 
home for aid. He would not creep back a peni- 
tent. 

The morning passed without any unusual inci- 
dent and after dinner Tom went to put on his 
Sunday clothes. As he descended the stairs he 
found his father waiting for him at the study door. 
His heart beat fast from an unreasoning fear that 
his secret had somehow been discovered, and that 


SOWING THE WIND 


47 


he was to be kept at home. The Bishop beckoned 
him into the study and shut the door. If there 
was an ominous air of secrecy in the action his 
kindly smile immediately dispelled the boy’s fear. 

have a little commission for you, Thomas,” 
he said, as he took an old leathern wallet from the 
table drawer. want you to deposit this three 
hundred dollars in the bank. Here’s the book. See 
that the teller makes the entry and bring the book 
back to me.” 

Tom was speechless at this proof of his father’s 
confidence in him and of his desire for a reconcilia- 
tion. The reconciliation was impossible, but he 
determined to be worthy of the trust. He would 
deposit the money, leave the book at the bank, and 
go away. How that the opportunity to ^Torrow” 
was presented he felt that it would be base to ac- 
cept it. His resolve was instantly taken and he 
looked up frankly as he put the money in his 
pocket. 

^^All right, sir,” he said. ^T’ll see to it.” 

His one desire now was to get away as soon as 
possible. He heard the wheels of the wagon on 
the gravel and turned to go. He hoped his father 
would not kiss him, for he shrank from his touch. 
His whole nature resented the inexplicable con- 
tradictions in his father’s treatment of him. Once 
more, however, the hand that had struck so fiercely 
was laid upon him in parental affection. He was 


48 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


conscious of the tickling of his father^s beard, of 
the odor of tobacco, and then he was free. 

On the road he and Basil exchanged some con- 
jectures respecting the personality of Bernard’s 
wife and then relapsed into silence. The inevita- 
ble temptation began at once to grasp Tom by the 
throat and to wrestle with him for a fall. At first 
the touch of the adversary was gentle. He was a 
friend who wished to talk the matter over. There 
was no harm in an impartial discussion ; it would 
not, of course, change his resolve. The influence 
of the Bishop began to wane. Out on the open 
road there was freedom and daring in the air. His 
thoughts grew bolder. 

As they swept around the bend of the road and 
came out by the river Basil’s eyes turned in- 
stinctively to the woods of Presque Isle on the 
other side. Here the Maumee was more than a 
mile wide and lay almost stagnant between broad 
stretches of farming country. Beyond Presque 
Isle he pictured the long road that followed the 
bay shore eastward and passed by the house of 
the girl he loved. Hext week the Bishop would be 
away on a tour of confirmation and then he would 
go to see Imogen again. He knew that this would 
be against his father’s wishes, though no interdic- 
tion had been laid upon his visits. Recently he 
had talked with his father about the daughter of 
the old scholar. In one way the Bishop was sym- 


SOWIira THE WIND 


49 


pathetic. He wished his sons to marry early, hut 
he wanted them to choose wives from the Church. 
The burden of his advice had been: ^^Be not un- 
equally yoked with unbelievers.’’ He urged Basil 
to convert Imogen to the Church before he should 
ask her to he his wife. The next day he gave the 
young man some ponderous hooks on the Evi- 
dences to take to his sweetheart, with the remark 
that a woman had no mind of her own, hut would 
believe with the man she loved. 

The hooks remained at home and the Bishop 
was offended. One of them was his own work. 
His tyranny was baffled and his pride was hurt. 
This was no act of disobedience, but something 
more subtle and difficult. From that time a reti- 
cence had existed between them. 

The Bishop knew that Basil continued his visits, 
but he did not oppose them openly. From time to 
time he made remarks at the table upon marriage, 
addressed to no one in particular, hoping in this 
way to influence his son. Basil did not like this 
system of innuendo, especially as its object was 
apparent to all the family, and it widened the 
breach between them. The Bishop was not one to 
appreciate the sensitiveness of a lover, especially 
if the lover were his son. 

It was no wonder that, with such divergent and 
incommunicable thoughts, the two brothers rode 
side by side almost in silence. Basil was full of 


60 


THE FiaHTING BISHOP 


doubts, doubts respecting his own convictions upon 
the Church, of Imogen’s love for him, of every- 
thing except his love for her who seemed in some 
way to resemble the white water-lilies that opened 
upon the marsh she loved. He little knew in how 
much darker and more terrible a sea his brother 
was foundering. 

As they left the bay shore and drove up the 
river they saw in the distance the canopy of smoke 
that covered the little city of Toledo. The way 
was bordered by purple thistles and rank weeds 
whitened with drifting dust. Here and there a tall 
patch of sweet clover was alive with the sound of 
bees. The fragrance of the feathery white sprays 
filled the air. One landmark after another was 
left behind; the old brick flour mill, the orchard 
of Judge Hichols, the Huss House, with its broad 
veranda and pretentious tower. The road de- 
bouched here into Summit Street and rose higher 
above the river. 

This was the one part of the busy western 
town that suggested Hew England. The neat 
white houses were set back from the street. The, 
green window blinds, pillared doorways, and white 
picket fences were reminiscent. Between the side- 
walk and the roadway little yellow, bobtailed cars 
jogged lazily along and waited for each other at 
switches. 


SOWING THE WIND 


51 


Basil looked at kis watch and saw that it was 
fifteen minutes of three. Then Tom spoke. 

^^You drive right on to the station, Bas. Bather 
gave me some money to put in the hank, and it 
closes at three. I’ll wait out in front till you come 
hack. May be there won’t he room for me, with 
the trunk. If I’m not there, don’t wait for me; 
I may ride home with Phil Williams. You can 
have her to yourself, for all I care.” 

Basil was surprised that the money had not 
been entrusted to his care, hut he guessed the rea- 
son and made no comment. He left his brother at 
the bank, near Madison Street, and drove on 
alone. 

The hands of the large clock in front of the 
jewelry store next to the bank indicated ten min- 
utes of three as Tom stood on the sidewalk and 
watched his brother disappear down the busy 
street. At that moment he supposed the moral vic- 
tory won. The struggle had been long and fierce. 
At first he had been inclined to obey his honest im- 
pulse and deposit all the money; then visions of 
forbidden delights which only money could pur- 
chase had tempted him to keep the whole sum. 
Hext he considered the possibility of a compromise 
and tried to calculate how much his father owed 
him for his services on the farm. A fantastic sense 
of humor made him reckon what the old man 
ought to pay for the pleasure derived from the 


52 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


floggings lie had administered. When he spoke to 
Basil he had given up this idea and returned to 
his first resolve. 

The parting, however, gave him a new sense 
of freedom and daring, as the separation from his 
father had done a short time before. Once more 
the tempter had him by the throat and he realized 
that if he did not act quickly the clock would settle 
the question for him. It lacked only 'five minutes 
of the hour of closing. If he were too late would 
he take the money hack home and explain the cir- 
cumstance, or would he carry out the threat he had 
made to Gus ? But Basil knew that he had time. 
He took out the hank hook and looked rapidly 
down the columns of figures. Up to that moment 
the three hundred dollars had seemed a large sum, 
hut when he saw the thousands credited to his fa- 
ther’s account it dwindled into insignificance, by 
comparison. And all that money was to he used 
to found a college to train young men for the min- 
istry, to he given to strangers ! 

Slowly he mounted the steps. guess his own 
son has earned some of it,” he muttered. In an- 
other moment he found himself at the receiver’s 
window. There was one depositor ahead of him 
in the shelter of whose hack he took out one hun- 
dred dollars, returning the rest to his pocket. 

^^Keep the book till father calls for it,” he said 


SOWING- THE WIND 


53 


to the teller, and without waiting for a reply he al- 
most ran from the place. 

His first instinct was to get away from Summit 
Street as soon as possible, where he was likely 
continually to meet people he knew, parishioners 
of his father’s. He went down the hill toward 
the river and turned into Water Street. Even 
as he did so he told himself that he was acting like 
a thief, although he had taken only what rightly 
belonged to him. He turned toward the station, 
whose red brick walls loomed beyond the canals 
and commanded a wide sweep of the river. 

Water Street seemed safe enough. Ho one ever 
went there except on business. To Tom it had 
always been a place of fascination. On the docks 
great heaps of coal sent up quivering waves of hot 
air. Beyond these the lake schooners were moored 
to the piles. The air was full of the sounds of 
labor; the rattle of wheels, the cries of workmen, 
and above all the regular crescendo and diminu- 
endo of the circular saws as they cut their gleam- 
ing way through the huge logs that had been towed 
down the lakes in mile-long rafts. 

A little steamer v/as tied at the foot of Jeffer- 
son Street, but he found that she would not leave 
until the morrow. Then he remembered the four 
o’clock train that left the main station for Hew 
York. 

He had reached the foot of Monroe Street. It 


54 


THE EiaHTlKG BISHOP 


was a quarter past three, and unless Basil were 
late he ought now to be starting from the station. 
He seated himself on a coil of rope behind a pile, 
where he had a view of the drawbridge over which 
his brother must pass, and waited. The minutes 
dragged by. It seemed to his excited fancy that 
Basil would never appear and clear the way for 
his escape. He did not stop to consider that it 
would take some time to get the trunk from the 
baggage-room and he began to think that they 
had already passed. 

Just as he was about to leave his hiding place 
and venture across the draw he caught sight of the 
familiar team in the procession of vehicles com- 
ing from the station. He had a clear view, but was 
not himself observed, for his brother did not glance 
in his direction. Tom saw that there were two 
trunks as vrell as some handbags, and that Basil 
had put the back seat in the bottom of the wagon 
to make room for the baggage. His brother’s form 
obstructed his view of Bernard’s wife, but he 
caught a glimpse of two gaily-colored ribbons 
floating back from her hat as they disappeared 
down Summit Street. 

Even as he hurried from the dock and crossed 
the bridge he wondered what manner of woman 
Anna might be. The baggage and ribbons had 
formed no part of his previous mental picture, and 


SOWING THE WIND 


55 


he almost wished that he had remained at home 
and satisfied his curiosity. 

To reach the station he had to cross two small 
drawbridges which spanned successively Swan 
Creek and the Erie Canal where they joined the 
river. He was just between the two when the gate 
in front of him came down and the draw began 
to swing slowly open. He waited in feverish im- 
patience while a tug towed a schooner up the 
canal, feeling that fate was against him. He was 
filled with rage against the idiots who chose that 
particular time to pass. At last the bridge swung 
shut. The gatekeeper waited with what appeared 
to be malicious deliberation until the last vibration 
ceased before he allowed the waiting throng to 
goby. 

He arrived at the ofiice breathless and pur- 
chased a ticket for Hew York city just as the 
stationmaster was calling out the train and the 
big room was echoing with the noises of departure. 
He boarded the train and passed through the cars 
till he reached the smoker. 

The train boy came in with the ^Yoledo Blade’’ 
and a box of cigars as they cleared the yard. Tom 
stopped him and purchased a long, dark ^Hlavana” 
and a paper. Then sinking back luxuriously in 
his seat he opened his paper, tilted his hat jauntily 
on the side of his head, and began to smoke. 


CHAPTEE VII 


BEENAED'S WIFE 

As Basil stood under the smoky dome of the 
station waiting for the train it occurred to him 
that he had a very shadowy conception of the ap- 
pearance of Bernard’s wife. The little daguerreo- 
type his brother had sent from California was 
unsatisfactory. He had not. studied it carefully, 
and as he tried to visualize the face he discovered 
that he could recall nothing distinctive by which 
to recognize her when the train came in. He re- 
membered only that her head was poised on one 
side with a suggestion of coquetry and that his 
mother had said she must be pretty. 

The train was late, but at last he heard the 
whistle of the engine and looked down the track 
to see the iron monster, followed by its many cars, 
sweep majestically around a slight curve and roll 
into the station with ringing bell and spouting 
steam. It seemed to him like a huge horse 
breathing hard at the end of a long race, weary 
but triumphant. 

The train had scarcely come to a stop before 
the passengers began to jump from the steps and 
stream down the platform. In the midst of the 
56 


BEENAED^'s WIFE 


67 


crowd, some hurrying by, others greeting their 
own, he stood confused. At last his attention was 
attracted by a slender young woman coming slowly 
toward him, followed by the porter carrying two 
large portmanteaux. It was the color of a long 
ribbon in her hat, making a bright spot in the 
gloomy place, that first arrested his wandering 
eyes. She singled him out at once and her manner 
invited him to speak. 

^^Are you ’’ he began. 

‘^Yes,” she answered, am. I knew you were 
an Ambrose in a minute ; you’re so large and hand- 
some.” 

She put up her face for a kiss. He stooped 
awkwardly and saluted her upon the cheek. He 
was hardly prepared for such an air of fashion 
as she presented and was a little disconcerted that 
her first words should be in the nature of a com- 
pliment. Eusebius would have been amused and 
would have found a fitting reply, but Basil was em- 
barrassed. He took the bags and led the way 
from the station. 

After helping her into the carriage he lingered 
a few moments at the step to ask about her trunks. 
Looking up, he observed her more attentively in 
the brighter light. The coquettish poise of the 
head was familiar, but her other characteristics 
found no counterpart in his memory. Her hair 
was neither brown nor red, but a compromise be- 


58 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


tween the two colors. It curled prettily at her 
temples and about her perfect little ear, waxen, 
colorless, and pure as the outlines of her face. 

The smile of her pink lips disclosed her white 
and even teeth. The feature that gave vitality 
and a mysterious charm to the whole was her eyes, 
not large nor perfect in outline, hut holding a 
strange fascination in their dark blue shadows. 

The touch of her cheek had been cool and soft, 
and a faint suggestion of perfume still lingered 
upon his lips. Her voice was like her cheek. 
When he saw the amount of her baggage and con- 
sidered it in connection with her fashionable ap- 
pearance he discovered that he had expected to find 
her in widow^s weeds. 

As they drove down Summit Street he looked 
for Tom in front of the bank, and, failing to see 
him, concluded that he had gone ahead. He was 
anxious to leave the city as soon as possible, for 
Anna and her baggage attracted attention and he 
noted curiosity on the faces of those who nodded 
as they passed. 

His companion chatted continually. There 
was something in her manner both gentle and per- 
sistent, as if she were determined to win his good 
will. It was the constant dropping that wears 
away a stone, the staying power which the ex- 
perienced judge of character recognizes as more 


BEEITAED^S WIFE 


59 


potent than the noisy, intermittent eiforts of 
others. 

She commented on the hardships of the, jour- 
ney and her own bedraggled appearance. He let 
slip the opportunity to pay her a compliment. To 
him she seemed far from travel-stained as he be- 
gan to observe the details of her dress ; the short- 
waisted bodice, the voluminous black silk skirt, 
with parallel rows of plaits, like the shingles on a 
roof, the snug boots that displayed her small foot 
when she thrust it beyond the border of her gown. 

Her first remark had been a compliment to him 
and her next was an exclamation of delight at the 
beauty of the city and river. As they passed the 
fine houses on lower Summit Street and the river 
view became more imposing her appreciation in- 
creased. Even the weather was to her liking. She 
contrasted the sunny warmth with the piercing 
winds that swept through the streets of San Fran- 
cisco on summer afternoons, bringing fogs and 
pneumonia from the ocean. It was an attack of 
pneumonia that had taken away her dear Bernard, 
a man who looked good for seventy years of life, 
who had weathered the severe winters of northern 
Ohio only to perish miserably in the land of sun- 
shine. She spoke with an intonation that sug- 
gested tears, though her eyes were dry. 

used to go and sit by his grave every after- 
noon and pray that his spirit would come and 


60 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


speak to me, and do you know,” drawing nearer to 
him and low^ering her voice to a whisper, ^^some- 
times when the fog came drifting in from the 
ocean I have heard him in the wind, and often at 
night I hear him knocking at my door, hnt when 
I open it I see his spirit fade away like a mist.” 

^^Bnt, surely,” Basil protested, ^%at was a trick 
of the imagination. The dead do not come hack 
to us. I have read of such cases, but they seem 
to have their source in the mind, to be mere hallu- 
cinations.” 

Anna shook her head stubbornly. ^^Do you 
think so?” she asked. ^^You men are so logical.” 

Basil had never been called ^^you men” before 
and the phrase pleased him, especially as it was 
coupled with a tribute to his understanding. He 
thought himself a mystic in a large, Platonic way, 
and he mused much upon the immortality of the 
soul. Still, he did not care to pursue the sub- 
ject with one who was obviously incapable of 
grasping his point of view and the conversation 
dropped back to a lower level. 

As they came in sight of Presque Isle she 
stopped in her aimless remarks, struck by his si- 
lence, and realized that he had evidently forgotten 
her presence. His eyes often had the look of one 
who is accustomed to contemplate blue, distances, 
and now the expression was intensified. His face 
was turned toward the grove of oak trees across the 


BERNARDOS WIFE 


61 


river and he was thinking of Imogen. Again 
Anna insisted upon his attention. 

^^Yes/’ he answered, absently, ^^Booth was won- 
derful in Hamlet. I wish he would come here 
oftener.’’ 

She commented upon the great actor’s predilec- 
tion for strong drink and their talk turned to the 
eccentricities of men of genius. To him the sub- 
ject appealed as a psychological problem, but she 
viewed it as matter for gossip and small scandal. 
It was with relief that he saw at last the roof 
of the school at the turn of the road and beyond 
that the two tall trees at his father’s door. 

As they drove in at the gate the family thronged 
out to meet them. The Bishop came to the door 
and smiled a greeting. 

^^Welcome home!” he shouted, and before the. 
wagon had fairly come to a stop he lifted Anna 
down and gave her a hearty kiss. 

Mrs. Ambrose, with tears in her eyes as she saw 
the wife of her first-born, hurried out and folded 
her in a motherly embrace. 

^^My dear child,” she said, “how tired you must 
he ! Come, right in and have a cup of tea. What a 
long journey, to he sure ! It makes me think of the 
time we came from the old country and I met your 
father, his father, my dear.” 

Eusebius gave her a kindly, impersonal wel- 


62 


THE FIGHTIHH BISHOP 


come, but Stephen and Gus were offish. Cyprian 
hid behind his mother and had to be pursued. 

^^0 you lovely child!’’ Anna exclaimed as she 
caught him. ^^He looks like Bernard,” she said, 
appealing to the circle around her. 

Her words created a slight embarrassment, for 
the resemblance was not apparent to them. 

^^He’s a cry-baby,” Cecily volunteered. She 
stood defiantly apart on the steps, eying Anna 
with mingled emotions in which admiration for 
her fine array contended with disapproval of what 
she mentally called her ^^airs.” 

As Anna arose from embracing Cyprian she 
felt this hostile attitude instinctively, as a valetu- 
dinarian detects a slight draught. 

^^And this is Cecily !” she cried. ^G’ve got some- 
thing pretty in my trunk for you that I know you 
will like.” 

The girl’s eyes brightened and she smiled in 
spite of herself. She was a born worldling and 
the prospect of sharing some of Anna’s fine things 
v/as alluring. 

As they crowded into the house, with laughter 
and talk Basil looked down upon them from his 
wagon seat and thought how pale and insignificant 
she looked in the midst of the tall and handsome 
group. It was, perhaps, the complacent opinion 
of a man whose imagination was dominated by 
another woman. 


BEENARD^S WIFE 


63 


Eusebius alone remained behind. give you 
a lift with the trunks/’ he said. 

Basil gave the horses to Jake to lead to the barn 
and the two brothers carried the baggage up the 
broad, shallow stairs while the rattle of dishes 
and the clatter of tongues came to their 
ears from the dining-room. They put the trunks 
into the guest-chamber over the study, and as the 
last one was pushed into place Eusebius sat doAvn 
upon it and mopped the perspiration from his 
brow. Basil leaned against the door dejectedly and 
as his brother glanced up and saw his forlorn face, 
he began to shake with silent inward laughter and 
his little black eyes fairly danced behind his spec- 
tacles. 

Basil was moved to the ghost of an answering 
smile. ‘^You may laugh,” he said, ^Tut you didn’t 
have to drive all the way in from town with her. 
I thought I’d never get here.” 

^^Where are the camels,” asked Eusebius, ^‘bear- 
ing rich gifts of gold and spices ? And where is 
the retinue of turbaned Arabs with the many 
changes of raiment? Methinks the Queen of 
Sheba traveleth but poorly attended.” He gave 
himself up to silent enjoyment of his elaborate 
joke. 

^^Oh, well,” Basil replied, ^^it may not be so bad 
after all.” 

^Had as what ?” Eusebius demanded. didn't 


64 : 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


say anything was bad. I intimated that it was 
passing good. Why, she has a face like the wife 
of Andrea del Sarto 

Their arrival at the table interrupted for a mo- 
ment the conversation. As they took their seats, 
Anna glanced at the faces from her position by the 
Bishop’s side and continued what she had been 
saying. 

^^Yes, indeed, of course I know you all by name. 
Didn’t my dear Bernard tell me all about you and 
show me your pictures ? Let me see.” She raised 
her hands, adorned with rings, with a pretty affec- 
tation as if she were a child reciting a lesson, and 
counted the names off upon her fingers. She was 
very proud of her hands which were small and 
shapely. ^^Eusebius, Basil, Stephen, Thomas — ” 
Here she paused. ^^Why, where is Thomas? I 
haven’t seen Thomas yet.” 

^^To be sure,” said the Bishop. ^AVhere is he, 
Basil ? Didn’t he come with you ?” 

left him at the bank on the way down,” Basil 
replied. ^^He said he’d ride back with Phil Wil- 
liams.” 

^^He’ll probably be home soon,” his father re- 
marked. ^^But tell me, Anna, how is the Church 
in California ? I want to know about Bishop Kip’s 
work from one who has been there. He is a great 
pioneer and personally I owe him much.” 


CHAPTEE VIII 


THE MAESJI king’s DAUGHTER 

One afternoon, late in September, Basil walked 
through the woods to the hay shore. There had 
been a severe early frost followed by wind and 
rain, but to-day the season paused in its onward 
march and the air was balmy. 'No sound broke the 
enchantment of the woods but the falling of hick- 
ory nuts, the chatter of crows, and the crackling 
of twigs under his feet. The broad waters of the 
bay and river sparkled in the sunlight. He no- 
ticed as he rowed away how rapidly the leaves had 
changed color in the last few days. Along the 
shore the low-lying hazelbushes and the trees were 
banked in masses of yellow and red. Here and 
there a gaunt bough stripped by the wind and rain 
was silhouetted against the blue sky. 

A sweet discordant cry filtered down through 
the air. He threw back his head and caught sight 
of two converging columns of wild ducks flying 
steadily southward, their leader straining on 
ahead. In a few minutes they became a speck in 
the blue distance. He seemed still to hear their cry 
echoing faintly in his ears. The sense of adventure 
suggested by their rapid flight aroused the native 
65 


66 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


wistfulness of his nature. Like them he seemed 
to be seeking a happiness that might prove elusive. 
He thought of the beautiful Platonic legend of 
the divided soul seeking its counterpart through 
the world, seeking but never finding. So shy had 
been his love for Imogen that as yet such a definite 
idea as marriage had hardly entered into the deli- 
cate tissue of his dreams. She was to him a spirit- 
ual embodiment, and with the austerity of a lonely 
nature he renounced before he won her. If he did 
himself and her an injustice neither of them knew 
it for he had never yet spoken to her a word of 
love nor by a kiss unlocked the secret wards and 
labyrinths of her heart. 

His thoughts reverted to the scenes that had fol- 
lowed his brother’s fiight. The theft had been al- 
most as great a blow to his father as a death in 
the family. The knowledge of it had been kept 
from the younger children and Anna. Every one 
knew that Tom had run away from home and the 
scandal was great enough as it was. The knowl- 
edge of the world’s criticism and conjecture had 
drawn them all together in a defensive alliance of 
silence. The Bishop made no effort to find his 
son. 

^Tet him learn his lesson,” he said. ^Hn the 
Lord’s own good time he will come back to us. 
Meanwhile don’t mention the matter to any one, 


THE MAKSH KIHG^S DAUGHTEE 67 

and when he returns don’t question him, hut act 
as if nothing had happened.” 

Anna’s arrival had to a certain extent crowded 
out the popular interest aroused by Tom’s depart- 
ure. As far as Basil could judge, her airs and 
graces had made an impression on the congrega- 
tion. At home, however, the adjustment of their 
lives had not been easy and was still by no means 
complete. The trouble did not seem to lie in a lack 
of good intentions on her part, hut rather in a flut- 
tering effort to he all things to every one. When 
she sought to be helpful she succeeded in interfer- 
ing. 

Basil beached the boat in a little cove behind the 
projecting woods of Presque Isle, and walked 
along the lake-shore road that led to his destina- 
tion. The gloomy thoughts of the troubles at home 
faded from his mind as he drew nearer and his 
heart heat fast with delicious anticipation. He 
feared that she might not be at home, but when he 
turned up the driveway and saw her standing in 
the garden his heart failed him because she was. 

They seated themselves upon a bench under the 
old cherry-tree from which they had gathered the 
crimson fruit in the spring. The wind was dying 
down and the shadows of the bare branches scarce- 
ly stirred upon the garden paths. 

The impulse of the lover to confide all his 
troubles to his sweetheart possessed him, and he 


68 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


told her the story of Tom’s flight. For the first 
time he saw distress and anger in her look as she 
divined the extent of the Bishop’s tyranny. She 
said but little, however, and he did not realize the 
intensity of her emotion concerning a parental 
attitude that was to him one of the accepted facts 
of life. 

When she smiled again he could not know how 
severe and independent her judgment had been. 
The one thing that aroused her gentle nature was 
cruelty. Pleased with the passing of the emo- 
tion, he regarded her with tender and complacent 
admiration. Her little hurst of anger had not 
seemed real. How could she ever he anything hut 
sweet ? How could he ever be distressed by an 
anger that only made her appear more beautiful ? 
He did not dream that it could be turned against 
himself. 

^^Come,” he said. ^^The days are growing 
shorter. I want to take you rowing once more 
upon the marsh before winter. To-day I saw the 
wild ducks flying south.” 

Basil went to get the oars while she stepped 
into the house to give instructions to her little 
maid, Eugenie, concerning supper. As he stood 
awaiting her return he looked at the broad, low 
house shadowed by great oaks, and thought how 
appropriate was the Indian name they had given 
it, ^Hangundovie,” the Tents of Peace. It was a 


THE MAESH KIHG^S DAUGHTER 69 

rambling structure, only one story in beigbt. The 
windows opened on the veranda and the ivy 
climbed to the roof. The old dog, Beowulf, lay 
sunning himself on the broad steps. To Basil 
it seemed indeed an abode of peace. There Mr. 
Brierly wrote his long poems on ISTature and 
Buddha and taught his daughter from the books 
he loved. He was not a cynic, though he had 
sought here a seclusion from the world. With a 
large tolerance toward the pleasure-loving instincts 
of youth he encouraged his daughter’s visits to 
her aunt in the city, and when she had a house- 
party of her friends he sat at the head of the table 
like a benign and humanized Merlin. In that 
house no word of anger was ever spoken, but there 
was also none of the spirit of strenuous endeavor 
which vitalized the Bishop’s more discordant fam- 
ily. Basil’s meditative mind was attracted by this 
atmosphere of almost Oriental philosophy and 
dreams. The trumpet call of a great national crisis 
had not yet come to awaken him to the glory of 
passionate action. 

Imogen, coming from the house, interrupted 
his thoughts. She had changed her light dress for 
a heavier one of dark color, mindful of the cool- 
ness of the autumn twilight, but to her lover she 
seemed no less beautiful. The change served to 
bring out more clearly the fair loveliness of her 
face. 


70 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


As they walked down the road she turned the 
conversation again to his father. The Bishop 
fascinated yet repelled her. He was as foreign 
to her experience as her father was to Basil’s. He 
told her of the Bishop’s disappointment in failing 
to have twelve sons who could imitate the twelve 
apostles by going forth to preach the gospel. There 
were only seven. He took his disajipointment as 
a rebuke for his presumption and consoled himself 
with the mystic significance of the number seven ; 
the seven days of the week, the seven notes of the 
scale, the seven colors of the rainbow, the seven- 
branched golden candlestick mentioned in Kevela- 
tion, and the seven churches of Asia. He had 
hoped that they would one day have charge of 
seven churches, but now Bernard was dead and his 
wife had come to live with them. 

Imogen postponed a question concerning Basil’s 
own intentions in regard to the ministry, moved 
by a stronger curiosity. 

^^You haven’t told me anything about your sis- 
ter-in-law,” she suggested. ^^Ho you know, I went 
to your church the day after she arrived and saw 
her come in with you. I thought there wouldn’t 
be room enough for her in the aisle,” she added 
mischievously. 

‘^Yes,” he rejoined, ^The black beads on that big 
hoop-skirt went clicking against the pews on both 
sides all the way. Eusebius suggested afterwards 


THE MARSH KING'^S DAUGHTER 71 

that she donate it to the farm to shelter a straw- 
stack.’’ 

The marsh, which was separated from Lake 
Erie only hy a narrow strip of forest-land, ex- 
tended back into the country for miles. Along its 
reedy margin, at intervals, little wooden boat- 
houses basked in the sun. In the autumn they 
were occupied hy hunting parties, hut in the win- 
ter they stood deserted, buffeted hy the snow. A 
sluggish stream which seemed to come from no- 
where and to have no outlet wound in mazy spaces 
of clear water through the wilderness of lily-pads. 

As Basil pushed the boat through the weeds to 
gain the channel they heard the report of a gun 
and saw a faint blue puff of smoke in the distance. 
Then in the stillness of the afternoon came the 
splash, of the pursuing dogs, the shout of the hun- 
ter, and the frightened cries of the ducks in fran- 
tic flight. When they reached the channel he let 
the boat drift and they sat in silence listening to 
the ripple of the water. The oars, at rest in 
the rowlocks, seemed broken where they en- 
tered the stream. They looked over the sides of 
the boat and saw a forest of strange weeds sway- 
ing gently in the clear, black depths. Fish darted 
from mysterious hollows, or lay with idly mov- 
ing flns and pulsing mouth near the surface. Basil 
made a quick motion with the oars and they dis- 
appeared like streaks of pale silver. 


72 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


you remember the time/’ he asked, ^Vhen 
we came out here in the summer and filled the 
boat with water-lilies ? I remember the sudden 
rain, and how the drops beating down on the miles 
of fiat lily-pads made a noise like the roar of a 
railroad train crossing a bridge.” 

She nodded. ^^Yes, and it didn’t hurt us a bit to 
get wet through ; but how I must have looked ! And 
then do you remember how the sun came out hot- 
ter than ever, and the steam rose from the marsh 
like smoke? After that the clouds poppled up 
white and sailed away, and we had a lovely sun- 
set.” 

^Toppled up !” he echoed. ^^That’s an innova- 
tion. Where did you find it ?” 

invented it,” she replied gaily. guess I 
can invent words if I want to.” 

^^Of course you can,” he assented. ^Wou’re the 
Marsh King’s daughter and this is your kingdom. 
Would it please your highness to view your ut- 
most domain?” 

Again he seized the oars and rowed away into 
the heart of the marsh. She trailed her hand idly 
in the water while he looked at her in silence, all 
his longing speaking in his eyes. As she glanced 
up and met his gaze a sudden panic seized her. 
How could she prevent — ^what? She had pre- 
vented things with other men, but now 'she felt 
helpless. 


THE MARSH KIHG'’s DAUGHTER 73 

The channel grew narrower and he plunged into 
the weeds with no definite thought except the joy 
of carrying her along and of giving his strong 
arms the action they craved. The oars sank into 
the clinging weeds and as the boat went forward 
he waited until they slipped off the blades before 
making another sturdy stroke. At last he asked 
her to change places. The boat rocked and he 
caught her a moment in his arms. The fever was 
in his veins as he punted through the shalloAVS to- 
ward the shore. Why had he been afraid ? 

As she watched his easy, decisive motions, his 
broad shoulders and welhset head, she felt a little 
thrill of admiration and personal pride. His hat 
was off and his brown hair, shot with glints of 
gold, curled slightly about his forehead. The habit- 
ual thoughtfulness of his expression was touched 
with the sternness of his ever increasing efforts. 
Bubbles burst up from the black ooze of the bot- 
tom, and turtles dropped from their logs and dis- 
appeared. At last he could shove the boat no 
farther and sat down to rest. The long, blade- 
like reeds came above their heads and the velvety, 
brown cat-tails leaned over the boat. The track 
which they had made in coming was closed; in 
the green twilight of their seclusion they were al- 
most afraid to speak. 

He took out his knife and began to cut the 
reeds and cat-tails. 


74 


THE FIGHTINa BISHOP 


^^Wliat are you going to do V’ she asked. 

going to make you a cushion/’ he replied, 
^^and when we get home to-night we’ll make torches 
of these cat-tails.” 

Again they became silent. Each felt a strange 
awe in their absolute seclusion from the world. 
The only sound they heard was the ripping of the 
knife through the pulpy reeds and the faint rustle 
of the wind. They could almost hear each other 
breathe. When he had covered the bottom of the 
boat with the reeds he turned to her smiling. 

^^Come,” he said, simply. 

A vague, tumultuous fear filled her heart. 

^^What do you want me to do ?” she asked, timid- 

ly- 

want you to come and sit by me,” he an- 
swered, stretching out his hand. 

She could not choose but obey. A quiet power 
seemed to come from him which she could no 
longer resist. "When she had taken her seat beside 
him she tried to smile and speak, but her voice 
died away and he felt her tremble. A wave of 
compassion and compunction smote his heart. 

^Toor little frightened bird,” he murmured, 
and putting his arm about her he drew her to him. 
She seemed indeed a bird caught in the net and 
unable to move. He raised her hand to his lips 
and kissed it. She tried to draw it away, but he 
held it fast, Slowly he bent down and rested his 


THE MARSH king's DAUGHTER 76 

cheek against hers. A thrill of wild joy ran 
through him as he felt her warm touch and the 
softness of her hair ; then he rested his lips against 
her temple. 

For just a moment he was conscious of the 
sweet, sunny odor of her skin, and then she drew 
herself suddenly away. Their eyes met and he 
saw that hers were full of tears. He had a revela- 
tion of the tumult in her heart ; the fear, the trust, 
the woman’s sweet shame at the discovery of her 
first love. 

The sun was toward the setting and threw long 
golden shafts of light across the reeds that bent 
above them. Hundreds of little birds flew over 
their heads with quick, sharp chirping, their 
breasts flashing yellow against the western light. 
Above them was the huge vault of the sky, chang- 
ing imperceptibly to a deeper and deeper blue. A 
shadow stole across the marsh. All at once they 
noticed that the reed-birds were gone and that the 
air was growing cold. She shivered and he drew 
her toward him once more. 

^^We must go,” she said softly, starting as from 
a dream. 

As he rowed back he watched her pale face 
smiling at him in the deepening twilight. The 
water of the channel was without a ripple, for the 
breeze had died down, and they seemed to float 
between sky and sky. The sun dipped red below 


76 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


the marsh and the evening star hung trembling in 
the amber west. They were on the darkening road 
before she spoke again. 

^^Do you see our star she asked, slipping her 
hand in his arm. ^Star light, star bright, the 
first bright star IVe seen to-night; I wish I may, 
I wish I might, have the wish I wish to-night.’ ” 

^ What is the wish, dearest he asked. 

For answer she laid her cheek gently for a mo- 
ment against his shoulder. 

It was after six o’clock when they arrived at 
her home. Mr. Brierly had returned and was sit- 
ting beside his study lamp reading the Atharva 
Veda Sanliita, He turned the pages lovingly, so 
absorbed in the magic incantations and curious 
superstitions of the book that he failed to notice 
the opening of the outside door. Beowulf, lying 
by his master’s side, was too old or too lazy to get 
up, but his heavy tail beat a tattoo of welcome on 
the floor. 

Basil was struck by the picture framed in the 
open door, the old man sitting in his easy chair 
with the book open before him, the lamplight fall- 
ing on the smooth dome of his head, his shaggy 
eyebrows, and the gray cataract of his beard. Be- 
hind his back rose shelf on shelf of books. He 
looked up as they entered the room. 

^Tather,” said Imogen, ^H’ve asked Mr. Am - 


THE MARSH DAUGHTER 77 ; 

brose to stay to supper. We’ve been rowing on tbe 
marsb.” 

Mr. Brierlj extended bis band, without rising, 
glad to see you, young man,” be said. 
^Wou will excuse me if I keep my seat; tbe cold 
evening air bas given me a twinge of my old 
enemy, tbe sciatica. Perhaps I ought not to have 
gone to town to-day, but I knew this edition of 
Roth’s must have arrived and feared that my book- 
seller would fail to realize tbe necessity of sending 
it to me at once.” He spoke slowly in a gentle 
voice that almost lost itself in bis beard. His man- 
ner conveyed tbe impression of infinite leisure. 

Imogen went to superintend tbe efforts of her 
little maid and Basil seated himself by tbe table. 

^^You must look out for your sciatica, sir,” be 
said. ^^It’s a bard thing to get rid of when it once 
starts.” 

know, I know,” replied tbe old scholar, wav- 
ing tbe subject aside. ^^Tbere aren’t many sands 
left in my hour-glass, but I owe it to my daughter 
to make them run as smoothly as may be. Ah, my 
dear young man, you have life before you; you 
ought to take up tbe study of Sanskrit. I only 
wish I bad begun it sooner myself.” 

Tbe dog at bis feet rose slowly and rested bis 
nose upon his master’s knee. Mr. Brierly placed 
bis band, white and delicate even in old age, on 
tbe animal’s head. 


78 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


^^Beowulf remembers when I began,” he said, 
smiling. ^^He rose to remind me that I named 
him about ten years ago, when Anglo Saxon was 
my chief love. The Sanskrit came later. Won- 
derful thinkers, these, sir, wonderful.” 

know they are,” Basil assented, ^^and I hope 
you’ll tell me more about them. At Kenyon we 
had no chance to study Sanskrit, only Greek and 
Latin. My mother taught me a little German, and 
now I am beginning Hebrew with my brother 
Eusebius.” 

^Wour father might say that Sanskrit was a 
waste of time,” the other remarked. ^^The re- 
ligion of Buddha would not appeal to him. He 
sees only one side of the beautiful prism from 
which shine the religions of the world. I have 
tried to turn it round and round to catch every 
ray and color. I admire your father, Mr. Am- 
brose. He is a remarkable man, a man of ac- 
tion.” 

hope you may meet him,” Basil responded. 
^^He would like to discuss these subjects with you.” 

Mr. Brierly regarded the young man a few mo- 
ments in silence ; then he said ; 

^Wour father is a man of passionate convictions 
and a discussion such as you suggest would arouse 
him to white heat and would fatigue me too much, 
I fear. I already understand his position.” He 
laid his hand upon one of the Bishop’s contro- 


THE MARSH KIHG''s DAUGHTER Y9 


VGTsial books on the table at his side. ^‘Here is 
his work on the Creed which I have read with 
great interest. If you grant the premises, it is a 
splendid, logical argument. But your father would 
not understand my point of view. He could not 
see, perhaps, just how I admire his Church. It 
was my own in England as a boy. It is just this 
one-sidedness which makes him so effective. 
Nevertheless, we may meet upon mutual, or shall 
I say neutral, ground, some day. I hope we shall.’’ 

These last words, which were in reality only a 
courteous expression of good-will, had for Basil a 
meaning their speaker could not divine. He was 
thinking of Imogen and hoping that their mutual 
love would one day bridge the gulf between the 
two families. Their conversation was interrupted 
by her entrance. She helped the old man tenderly 
to his seat at the head of the table. ' 

Eugenie had braided just above each temple a 
lock of her black hair and tied them with gay 
bows of lavender ribbon, as was the custom among 
the girls of French Camp. Imogen had trained 
her not to expect to sit with them at table, a thing 
usual at that time in country districts. She dis- 
closed her white teeth in a friendly smile to Basil, 
but her timidity prevented her from speaking her 
welcome in the broken English that pleased her 
mistress. 

In the center of the table stood an old silver 


80 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


candelabrum whose tall wax candles threw a soft 
light upon the spotless linen cloth and polished 
dishes. It disclosed also a vase of bright asters 
from the garden and brought out the warm color 
of the glass of port wine by the scholar's plate. 

The supper was in keeping with the simplicity 
of the house ; omelette seasoned with parsley, fresh 
biscuit and butter, honey bright as pale gold, three 
thin slices of old-fashioned pound-cake, and tea. 
Mr. Brierly drank his tea clear. 

^Tt^s a custom I learned in Shanghai,” he ex- 
plained, ^^and now I think it’s the only way to 
drink it; that is, provided the tea is good and 
doesn’t need to have its flavor disguised.” 

He pointed out a set of tea cups on the side- 
board which he had brought from the Orient. They 
were little bowls, the larger ones standing on brass 
frames (with smaller inverted ones on top). They 
were ornamented with Chinese flgures and with 
the green dragon of the Celestial Kingdom. The 
shelf on which they stood held also other curios; 
Turkish scimitars and nargilehs, Greek vases of 
various shapes and sizes, Tanagra figurines, and 
Egyptian scarabs. 

When they returned to the study the old man 
read to them from his long poem on the religion of 
India. He had published the. book at his own ex- 
pense. Satisfied with the completion of the task 


THE MARSH HIHG^S DAUGHTER 81 

of many years lie cared only for the recognition of 
the scholars to whom he had sent copies. 

Basil and Imogen sat side by side on the, deep 
divan in the how window listening to the mel- 
lifluous periods of the heroic verse. Stealthily his 
hand sought hers, as he looked at her luminous 
hair, an aureole in the lamplight, her half -opening 
lips, and the depths of her shadowed eyes. 

The old poet turned page after page, led on by 
his love of the work. The monotonous flow of his 
words became indistinct, hut still Basil caught 
something of the praises of Agni, the Fire-god, of 
Indra, of Surya, and of Ushas, the goddess of 
the Morn. Then rose the snowy Himalayas, peak 
on peak, climbing the sunset sky, and beyond was 
the blessed Hirvana. The reader’s voice trembled 
with emotion and a tear rolled down his cheek. 
He closed the book and gazed in silence with eyes 
that seemed to traverse the limits of time and 
space. 


CHAPTEE IX 


ANl^Ay THE PEOPHETESS 

During the months following Tom’s departure 
from home Anna had gradually been establishing 
a modus vivendi with the Ambrose family. She 
soon perceived that Work was the watchword of 
the household and with the facility of one who 
can assume any character by virtue of having none 
she began to fill her days with a great deal of busy 
idleness. 

At first Mrs. Ambrose welcomed her proffered 
assistance, accepting her good intentions as an. 
earnest of future usefulness ; but as time went on 
and her daughter-in-law still remained incompe- 
tent she was glad to have her claim a headache 
and retire. Gradually Anna perceived a willing- 
ness on the part of the family to accept her as a 
semi-invalid, one for whom putting up mincemeat 
and house-cleaning were tasks far too arduous. She 
began to realize, however, that unless she could 
get another husband she would gradually sink to 
the position of a dependent female relative in the 
household. 

Had the Bishop lived in town her social oppor- 
tunities would have been greater 5 but he had pur- 
82 


AITITA^ THE PROPHETESS 


83 


posely removed his family from the frivolous in- 
fluences which had surrounded his own boyhood 
and against which his subsequent life was one long 
protest. 

No one knew how great her disappointment was. 
She had expected a more brilliant and worldly 
atmosphere, not, one charged with the spirit of 
ceaseless endeavor. She was accustomed to re- 
gard the Episcopal Church as the most fashionable 
in social matters and the most lenient in doctrinal. 
Now she began to regret that she had left Cali- 
fornia and exchanged the chance of marrying some 
rich miner for the hum-drum existence she was 
living. Instead of balls, she attended only Church 
socials and children’s festivals. The gatherings 
at the house were either hearty feasts and flreside 
jollifications with nuts and popcorn or solemn con- 
claves at which the conversation was largely on 
politics and religion. The interest taken in the 
negroes of the South seemed to her an unnecessary 
waste of sympathy and her simple mind became 
confused by the religious terms she heard; Tran- 
substantiation, the Vicarious Atonement, Purga- 
tory, the Immaculate Conception, the Apostolic 
Succession. She found it difficult to remember 
which of these doctrines she was supposed to ac- 
cept, and which were condemned as ^^Komish,” 
especially as the Bishop and Eusebius sometimes 
differed in their own views regarding such subtle 


84 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


points as tlie Keal Presence. The simple theology 
of her childhood was more to her liking. It could 
almost he summed up in the sounding phrase ‘^jus- 
tification by faith/’ on which she had heard the 
changes rung in many a soul-stirring prayer-meet- 
ing of the Methodist denomination. Her vanity 
longed for the old excitement of testimonies and 
for the fearful ecstasy of the mourners’ bench, on 
which she had often sat as a result of her back- 
slidings both terpsichorean and theatrical. She 
had not been a good Methodist, but she was even 
less capable of understanding the technical stand- 
point of the good Episcopalian. The. earnestness 
of the conversations she heard was deadly to her. 
Howhere did she find the thoughtless and emo- 
tional atmosphere in which her nature could ex- 
pand. 

If Cecily had been older Anna might have had 
opportunities, but as it was she found no entrance 
into the fashionable little world that centered in 
the home of Mrs. Van Dam, the wife of the 
banker. 

Mrs. V an Dam was a young and handsome wo- 
man, and the leader of Toledo’s social set. When 
she first saw Anna at church she was not favor- 
ably impressed. She had been brought up in the 
East and was too much a woman of the world to 
be deceived in the quality of other women’s breed- 
ing. Perhaps she divined a possible rival in the 


THE PROPHETESS 


85 


pretty little woman whose eagerness for recogni- 
tion found an expression in persistent chatter and 
graceful poses. She found it convenient to as- 
sume that the Bishop’s daughter-in-law partook of 
the character of his household and cared nothing 
for the light amusements of the town. It was 
some time before she and her husband called, and 
when they did so they made no special point of 
seeing Anna. Nevertheless, she resolved to return 
the call. 

One afternoon she persuaded Mrs. Ambrose 
to take her to the Van Dams, when the two were 
in town on a shopping expedition. Good taste in 
dress was the one thing Mrs. Ambrose had found 
useful in her daughter-in-law and she availed her- 
self of her judgment in selecting dresses for Ce- 
cily’s growing needs. It was an extra large thorn 
in Anna’s crown of sorrows that she should he 
compelled to use her skill to adorn the girl she had 
begun to dislike for her sharp tongue, her ingrati- 
tude, and her beauty. Mrs. Ambrose and Euse- 
bius alone escaped her secret aversion, for both 
were always largely kind. In spite of Cecily’s 
hatefulness, Anna could not sin against her own 
sense of the artistic in dress. She made the girl 
appear her best and then ate out her heart at the 
result of her efforts. 

The banker’s wife received them cordially, but 
kept the conversation on diocesan missions and 


'86 


THE EIGHTIHa BISHOP 


kindred subjects in which she knew Mrs. Ambrose 
was interested. Anna went awaj discouraged. 
She was no nearer the goal of her ambition than 
before, and she saw plainly that Mrs. Van Dam 
intended to include her absolutely in the Ambrose 
family and to ignore her as a person socially in- 
teresting for her own sake. Her despair was in- 
creased by an intuition that the Bishop and his 
wife were the last people in the world to question 
or resent this attitude. They seemed to assume 
that she, as a widow, had done with any life but 
that of a handmaiden of the Lord. 

One Sunday in December, as Anna was leaving 
the church in company with Basil and Stephen, 
Mrs. Van Dam stopped and invited them to a 
dance at her house which was to be given in about 
a fortnight. 

Basil was anxious to attend the ball because he 
knew Imogen would be there. Stephen, though 
far from popular, was asked as a matter of course. 
Mrs. Van Dam knew from experience that he 
would spend his time making remarks about her 
guests and getting into arguments, but no one took 
him seriously and she hoped he would not be in his 
most warlike mood. Although she admired his 
musical ability and praised it to his father, she 
privately confided to her husband her opinion that 
Stephen Ambrose was a zany with a tragical bent. 

Anna could not fail to observe that she had been 


ANNA, THE PEOPHETESS 87 

invited in no very personal or pressing manner, 
but the fact did not weaken her determination to 
go. She spent the intervening time remodeling 
her wedding gown and dreaming of the social tri- 
umph her experience would win over girls who 
had nothing but red cheeks to recommend them. 
Was five and twenty so old? She did not look it. 
She surveyed herself in the mirror and was 
pleased with the modest droop of her shoulders 
and the lines of her neck. The starry light of her 
blue eyes held her. She gazed until it seemed 
that another self, yet her own, fascinated her. 

On the night of the ball the Bishop came out 
of his study to wish his sons a good time, when 
he heard the sleigh driven up to the door. He was 
reminded of his own gay youth in Philadelphia 
and in a mood of unusual mellowness he reflected 
that his boys had fewer social pleasures than he 
had enjoyed. Basil was radiant. He mentally re- 
solved that he would not, could not, sleep that 
night. The presence of Imogen at the ball and the 
memory of her on the way home would not allow 
weariness to come near him. He was talking with 
his father in the hall, when Anna in all her finery 
descended the stairs. The Bishop saw her and 
stood transfixed with amazement and displeasure. 
She met his eye and stood timidly apprehensive. 

^^YouTe not going, too?’’ he demanded. 


88 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


^^Why, yes,” slie faltered. ^^Mrs. Yan Dam in- 
vited me and — ” 

Her wrap escaped lier grasp and disclosed her 
bare and delicate shoulders. 

^^Youdl catch your death of cold,” he said, stern- 
ly. ^^I’m surprised at you, Anna ! I should think 
that your spirit had been sufficiently chastened to 
drive away all thoughts of dances. Mrs. Yan 
Dam doesn’t expect you to go, and I certainly 
sha’n’t allow it. It is time for you to put away 
childish things. Go back to your room and change 
your clothes.” 

As Anna heard these words she seemed to 
shrink and her cheeks paled behind the pitiful dab 
of color with which she had surreptitiously 
adorned them. She could no more resist his im- 
perious will than defy heaven itself. 

A smothered sob arose in her throat and she 
crept up stairs again without a word, conscious of 
her tyrant’s uncompromising stare and Stephen’s 
malicious smile. 

Basil had turned away to avoid witnessing her 
discomfiture, but she did not observe his involun- 
tary tact. She noticed only the stare and the smile 
and Cecily’s smothered laugh through the half- 
open parlor door, and she included them all in an 
impartial hatred. 

She threw herself upon her bed and listened to 
the jingle of the sleigh-bells, growing fainter in 


AISTNA^ THE PROPHETESS 


the distance. The great opportnnitj was gone, bnt 
she was not entirely crushed. Like the willow, she 
bent to the blast to rise again when the storm had 
swept by. She did not reappear that evening, bnt 
lay awake brooding and planning, as a prisoner 
lies in a darkened cell and devises means of es- 
cape. One fact stood out before all others. It was 
the Bishop who stood in the way of her freedom 
and happiness. He wished her to be merely a ser- 
vant in his house, and not his daughter. She hated 
him with all the intensity of a weak and obstinate 
nature. She feared him, she dared not oppose him 
openly, but nevertheless she resolved that in some 
way she would yet gain her object. 

From that time her position in the family be- 
came that of a seamstress. This work pleased her 
best, for she was lacking in physical robustness 
and she found abundant time to fashion rosy 
dreams as the garments took shape beneath her 
skilful fingers. Defeated in her social aspirations, 
her craving for emotional excitement began to find 
an outlet in religious fervor. She took to read- 
ing pious poetry and such books as Pilgrim’s 
Progress and The Imitation of Christ. She copied 
Eusebius also in making the sign of the cross 
whenever it could be done appropriately. 

At first the Bishop was pleased with these evi- 
dences of her change of heart. Little did he real- 
ize the emotions that underlay her dutiful and 


90 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


compliant attitude toward him. It was only when 
her religions ecstasy began to move her more and 
more frequently to tears that he became conscious 
of a morbidity in her nature that was foreign to 
his own. The sentimental religionist offended him. 
He was like one of the old Churchmen whose at- 
titude toward the Creator found expression in the 
Gloria in Excelsis and the Te Deum. He disap- 
proved of the egotism of the modern hymnologists 
who depicted what is commonly called religious 
experience and sounded the note of weariness and 
individual longing. The tendency of the more 
emotional sects to introduce into the worship of 
God passionate and sensuous descriptions, and 
terms of physical endearment, repelled him. Ho 
perceived that Anna was a product of this modern 
decadence and divined that she thought of her 
Saviour almost as she did of her husband. One 
day he admonished her: ^^Try to think of Christ 
as a spirit. The religious life is not a sentimental 
state of mind hut an active conviction and prin- 
ciple.’’ She felt his vague disgust and resented it. 
Surely, she had been following his teachings, hut 
he was too much a tyrant to be satisfied. 

She began to enshrine Eusebius in her heart and 
tried to find opportunities of talking with him 
alone about the condition of her soul ; hut he was 
very busy and she seldom succeeded. Perhaps 
some slight distrust of himself caused him to avoid 


THE PEOPHETESS 


91 


as much as possible the strange appeal of her 
questioning eyes. When they did meet, he resisted 
the subtle flattery which she, as a woman, offered 
to him as a celibate priest. He persisted in treat- 
ing her impersonally and her religious fervor 
prompted him to call her in kindly jest ^^Anna, 
the Prophetess.” 


CHAPTEE X 


INTO A FAR COUNTRY 

As Tom sat in the train on the afternoon of his 
escape from home his first emotion was one of 
great exultation. He was free at last ! The train 
gathered headway, and it seemed but a few mo- 
ments before he had passed the outmost landmark 
of any previous journey into the world. . 

He looked furtively at his traveling companions 
and was relieved to find that he recognized none of 
them. Xo one seemed to be excited by the expe- 
rience that was to him so wonderful. Some glanced 
listlessly from the window, others read their pa- 
pers as unconcernedly as if they were at home, 
while still others smoked stolidly and fixed their 
eyes on vacancy. He turned to his paper again, 
but found it uninteresting. 

His thoughts outran the whirling wheels. He 
looked from the window and half expected to see 
great cities loom in the distance, grand with 
walls and towers; but the shadows lengthened 
across the fields and still only the level country, 
with here and there a small village, sped back into 
the west. 

The farmers were gathering in their grain ; poor 
92 


INTO A FAR COUNTRY 


93 


drudges, still in the chains he had escaped forever. 
His experienced eyes distinguished the wheat, the 
bearded barley, and the timothy with a base of 
clover. Some fields were already bare ; others were 
being reaped ; still others were over ripe and gold- 
en yellow. The corn was higher than usual for 
the time of year, and he repeated over to himself 
the old rhyme: 

Knee-high, 

Fourth of July. 

The clicking wheels sang the refrain again and 
again : 

Knee-high, 

Fourth of July, 

Knee-high, 

Fourth of July, 

till he grew weary of the monotonous song and 
turned back to his inward vision. 

About half -past five the clouds along the horizon 
assumed the outlines of a gigantic mountain range, 
with here and there a snowy peak towering above 
the darker valleys. Such was his mood that he al- 
most believed the illusion true and would scarce 
admit that the outlines changed and shifted. 

Then came the twilight, deepening into a wall 
of blackness against the pane, shot through at 
long intervals by the gleam of some lonely light. 

At Cleveland he bought a sandwich and a cup 


94 ’ THE PIGHTIISTG BISHOP 

of coffee. The train stopped a short time and he 
was tempted to stay , behind, so alluring was the 
bustle of the, place; the banging of the brass pan 
at the lunch-room door, the hurrying crowds, the 
lighted streets that led off into mystery from the 
station. But l^ew York beckoned grandly and he 
caught the step just as the train began to move. 

Soon, even Cleveland was a vague and confused 
memory. How many hours ago did he leave it? 
A number of the faces about him had changed, and 
he tried to remember some who had begun the 
memorable journey Avith him, faces that at first 
had seemed so real, now passed forever from his 
sight. He seemed to have left permanency behind 
him and the world became a shifting panorama, 
a wonderland where men as shadows came and 
went. His imagination became wearied with the 
immense expansion of his horizon. He had eaten 
all he could; he had smoked until his mouth was 
parched ; the men about him were sleeping, sprawl- 
ing grotesquely upon their seats ; but still he sat 
erect, his eyes wide open against the pane, dream- 
ing of new wonders which the morning would 
bring. 

The night grew more confused and strange. 
Once he found that the train was standing still 
beside a station. He saw lanterns flashing; he 
heard voices calling outside, and the ringing blow 
of a hammer against the wheels as the watchman 


IFTO A TAR COUISTTKY 


95 


tested them. Then he realized that he had been 
asleep. 

He opened the window and looked out. Tar 
away, in the oppressive solemnity of the night, he 
heard the crickets pulsing in the grass. Hearer 
by, dark figures hurried to and fro in mysterious 
activity. The sleepers in the car snored dismally 
or sat up with weary and bewildered faces. He 
read the name of the station on the sign-board 
above the door. So many hundred miles from 
Cleveland, so many hundred to Hew York. Tom 
did not know that he had a poet’s appreciation of 
the proximity of the sublime and the grotesque, 
but ever afterward that scene was one of the per- 
manent pictures in his mind, and he always re- 
membered the name of the little station which he 
never saw again. 

A feeling of awe and desolation crept over him. 
It was the darkest hour of the night, just before 
the dawn. Fear and remorse laid an icy grip on 
his heart, and the familiar home faces rose up to 
confront him. Would he ever see them again? 
A lump swelled in his throat as he slammed down 
the window and pulled his hat over his eyes. The 
train moved on, slowly at first, then faster and 
faster. Again the old refrain came back into his 
mind : 

Knee-high, 

Fourth of July. 


96 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


The adventurous spirit reasserted itself and 
conquered. Lured bj his earlier visions he fell 
asleep, and when he awoke it was morning. 

As the day passed it seemed that he would never 
reach the wonderful city for which he longed. At 
every station he left the train to stretch his 
cramped legs and read the diminishing numbers 
over the door. When the Alleghany Mountains 
began to rise on either side he persuaded the 
engineer to allow him to ride in the cab. He re- 
membered that his parents had traversed those 
mountains on horseback, westward bound, so many 
years ago. At every curve he felt that the huge 
iron machine on which he rode would plunge, down 
into the gorge below. At last his soul was sated 
with wonders and excitement and he returned to 
his seat in the car to resume his weary watching. 

When darkness came again he knew that he 
would be in Hew York before the morning. He 
could sleep no more, but walked up and down the 
aisle and sat a few minutes in different places ; 
then he came back to the seat in which it seemed 
that he had spent no small part of his life. 

It was two o’clock in the morning when the cry 
^Mersey City!” brought him for the last time to 
his feet. He followed the crowd into the ferry- 
boat and passed through to the farther end. There 
he stood and strained his eyes eastward. Where 
was the city he had expected to see? He could 


IITTO A FAE COUNTEY 


97 


scarcely discern the long line of scattered lights 
that lay like fallen stars beyond the murky belt of 
water. Gradually an uneven sky-line of more in- 
tense blackness dawned upon his vision, and his 
heart throbbed with exultation. There, lay the 
wonderful city! Within that blackness were the 
myriad streets; there life was somehow fresher, 
grander, more alluring, than anything he had 
known. 

The boat steamed slowly out from the slip and 
seemed to float on darkness. Suddenly, when the 
high enclosing piles were passed, the strong salt 
breeze that blew up the majestic river smote him 
full in the face. The boat lurched with the waves. 
He seized the rail and straightened himself, breath- 
ing deep. The sea 1 It was his first smell of the 
sea. He could have shouted aloud. 

He looked southward. That way it lay ; some- 
thing so immense, so strong, so unlike the lazy, 
shallow water of the lake that bordered his home. 
Then he turned his eyes again to the city. It 
came toward him out of the gloom, higher and 
higher; the huge warehouses, the shadowy hulks 
of ships. Two colored lights burned low upon 
the water, like the eyes of some strange monster. 
Hearer and nearer they came until they enclosed 
the boat on each side. Then the illusion was dis- 
pelled. It was the boat that moved, and the lights 


■98 THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 

were stationary on the ends of the slip into which 
he was now entering. 

Through the low arch of the ferry-house he saw 
a dim street, so touched hy the witchery of night 
that it seemed a page from a quaint romance. He 
was looking through the gate of some old city wall. 

He took a car in waiting and stood upon the 
front platform. He did not care to ask questions, 
but wished to seem sure of his destination. On 
nearer view the street was dismal, but the lamps 
led away to a central glow somewhere in the heart 
of the city. 

The warehouses disappeared. Shops and dwell- 
ings now lined the way. Even at that late hour 
there was a confused murmur of life, and figures 
passed through the patches of light under the 
gas-lamps. Within those blank walls, behind some 
darkened curtain, perhaps some one now slept 
whom he would one day know and love. 

When he became more familiar with the city he 
never knew by which of the ferry lines he had 
come that night, so dreamlike was his entrance. 

Finally the car passed a street so much brighter 
and more lively than the others that he stepped 
from the platform and made his way to the, curb. 
He turned northward, scanning the high buildings 
and the faces of the night-rovers that passed by. 
He had reached the center of the glow and, looking 
up, he read on a lamp-post the name of Broadway. 


INTO A FAR COUNTRY 


99 


This, then, was the famous street of which he had 
heard so much ! He recalled the pictures in Har- 
per’s Magazine of the fashionable women in large 
skirts who paraded that thoroughfare; the rough 
sketches of beggars, newsboys, and cabbies. He 
could hardly realize that he was really there at 
last. 

He entered a hotel and fell into a deep sleep as 
soon as he had stretched himself upon his bed. 
The oblivion of his weary mind was long. He 
awoke with a consciousness of a roaring about him, 
like the sound of many waters. He sprang to the 
floor and threw up the curtain. Then he put his 
head out of the window and stared. It was near 
high noon. Far below him the splendid vista of 
Broadway stretched north and south, flooded all 
its length with light. 

He looked for some time at the bewildering 
spectacle ; the ant-like figures streaming over the 
pavements, the congested traffic of the central 
way, the omnibuses, carriages, and drays. The 
shouts of vendors, the rattle of wheels, and 
the imprecations of drivers ascended to his ears. 
It was the height of that song of the city which 
forqver haunts the memory of one who has learned 
to love it in his youth ; the song of life, dwindling 
in the dead of night to a solemn minor, and swell- 
ing at noon time into a grand symphony of tri- 
umph. 


LofC. 


100 


THE FIGHTII^a BISHOP 


Tom looked and listened and felt it all. Had 
he possessed the gift of expression his love of life 
would have made him a poet. His home became 
shadowy and unreal. The excitement of the new 
life thrilled him. He was young ; it was all his to 
enjoy. He hurried into his clothes and when he 
had paid his bill he ran forth into the street. 

During the next five months he became familiar 
with the worst that Hew York could offer to those 
who went on quests like his. He learned the Bow- 
ery, the Five Points, then at the acme of its 
squalor and crime, the dance-halls, the theaters, 
and other less respectable haunts of pleasure. 

The summer passed, and his money began to 
fail. Sometimes he found an odd job to do, but 
the times were hard and the city was full of the 
unemployed. The increasing coldness of the au- 
tumn nights began to warn him of the impending 
hardships of the winter. He learned for the first 
time the fickleness of the companions of pleasure, 
and found the taste of the fruit of the tree of 
knowledge bitter-sweet. 

He was shrewd enough to escape the wiles of 
the ^^confidence man,” and, in fact, his face and 
bearing were far from conveying the impression 
of rustic gullibility ; but the roulette wheel was a 
temptation to which he readily yielded. It seemed 
the one way to restore his failing funds, and it 
furnished an excitement that dulled the pricks of 


IliTO A PAE COUNTEY 


101 


conscience. The sport appealed to the adventur- 
ousness of his nature. It was the same quality 
that had driven his father into the wilderness. As 
he stood at the table watching the marble drop 
into the compartment that meant gain or loss, his 
confident, even insolent, hearing suggested little 
of the farm. On the first occasion he had seen a 
city youth, with the, hard, pale face that belongs 
to his kind, losing his money without a tremor, 
and he scorned to appear less stoical. 

At first. Fortune rewarded his fortitude with 
success and his winnings mounted into the hun- 
dreds; but one December night he saw his last 
dollar vanish into the till of the imperturbable at- 
tendant. So absorbed was he in the game that he 
searched his pockets mechanically for a few min- 
utes before the relentless truth dawned on him. 
The man behind the wheel saw his blank expres- 
sion and the tight, smooth skin of his face 
wrinkled into a cold smile. 

^^Cleaned out?’’ he remarked. ^^Hard luck. 
Come again some other time and get even with us.” 
Tom’s face had become familiar to him and there 
was a certain air of good fellowship in his words 
and manner. 

' ^^It’s all I’ve got in the world!” the boy ex- 
claimed, touched and hopeful, he knew not why. 
He stood as if expecting something. The other’s 


102 


THE FIGHTIHa BISHOP 


expression hardened, and he, threw a quarter across 
the table. 

^^That’ll put you up for the night/^ he said. 
^^Don’t stand in the way of men who want to 
play.” 

Tom seized the coin feverishly. 

^Tll borrow it of you!’’ he cried. ^T’ll bet it 
on the red.” 

The man laughed. You’ve had enough for to- 
night. Don’t stand in the way there.” Other 
players pushed him aside, and he slunk out of the 
place, unconscious of the fact that he still held the 
money in his hand. He imagined they were all 
laughing at him ; but the incident was too much a 
matter of course to attract even a passing notice. 

When he found himself in the street his first 
impulse was to return and throw the money in the 
fellow’s face; but on second thought he put it in 
his pocket and turned away. 

He walked on without definite plan until he 
reached the Battery. The park was deserted, ex- 
cept for the presence of a policeman who glanced 
sharply at him as he leaned on a pile and gazed 
fixedly into the dark water of the bay. He had 
stopped in his walk merely because he could go 
no farther. Bor the first time he became conscious 
of the weariness his feverish life had brought. 
The snow was falling slowly into the dim foam 
below, and he remembered a family legend to the 


INTO A FAE COUNTEY 103 

effect that his great-grandfather had once gone 
down to London Bridge to commit suicide, hut 
had been frightened from his determination by 
the dark and sinister aspect of the water. He 
played with the idea of self-destruction musingly, 
as a person on a height calculates the time it would 
take his body to reach the ground. 

Later in the night his wanderings led him into 
Pearl Street. In front of an obscure door he 
saw a transparency advertising fifteen cent lodg- 
ings. His one desire was for sleep. In the bar- 
room he spent ten cents for a drink of whisky, 
and leaving the change from the quarter to pay for 
his bed, he stumbled up the narrow stairs. Hither- 
to his means had sufficed for better lodgings, and 
the appearance of the place dismayed him. 

He saw a low, long room dimly lighted by lan- 
terns on the walls. In spite of the cheap price he 
had imagined that a separate compartment would 
be assigned him, but as his eyes became accus- 
tomed to the obscurity he discerned two rows of 
sleepers lying on the floor. Ho one seemed to be 
in charge, so he groped his way down the aisle in 
search of an unoccupied mattress. Men swore at 
him drowsily as he stumbled against their feet. 
A big stove in the center of the room threw out a 
radius of heat and intensified the unsavory 
odors. A man who was putting in coal proved to 


104 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


be the keeper of tbe den and led him to a place 
next his own by the window. 

His first deep sleep was gradually pierced by a 
vague distress. He seemed to be down by the 
marsh on a summer night, tormented by mos- 
quitoes. He sat up and looked about, still vainly 
fighting the insects, until his exertions woke him. 
When the truth flashed on him he shook the 
keeper in a sudden flash of anger. 

^What sort of a place is thisf^ he demanded. 
^^I’m eaten up with bed bugs.’’ 

The fellow’s anger more than equalled his own. 
He crouched like a vicious dog and, seizing the 
boy by the throat, threw him down on the blankets. 

^Wou are, hey?” he cried. ^Tf you don’t like 
this hotel you’d better go to the Astor House. 
What did you come here for, anyhow, with your 
damned airs ?” 

Tom struggled vainly ; he was in the hands of a 
man who was employed for his strength and feroc- 
ity to eject turbulent lodgers. Submission was 
his only refuge and he gasped an apology. The 
keeper released him with another oath, and a 
promise to ^Treak his face” in the event of being 
again disturbed. 

The night wore on, but sleep was now impos- 
sible. A horror of the den in which he found him- 
self took possession of him. He hated the snoring 
wretches who lay undisturbed by the vermin that 


IITTO A FAE COUNTEY 


105 


maddened him. He hated his jailer, hut he did not 
dare to waken him again to ask for his freedom. 
After awhile he drew on his stiffened boots and 
went to the window. The fire in the stove was go- 
ing out and he wrapped the blanket about him for 
warmth. The snow had ceased to fall and the cold 
dawn began to pale the flickering lamps in the 
street. A cab came around the corner and drew 
up at a door opposite. The driver dismounted and 
helped two young men up the steps. Tom knew 
by their capes and tall hats that they were dandies. 
They were hanging doggedly to the fag end of a 
wild night and the dawn found them still unsatis- 
fied. As they ascended the steps they quavered 
forth the chorus of a song then popular in the 
city: 

^^Bowery girls, are you coming out to-night. 

For to dance by the light of the moon 

He turned from the window in disgust. He, 
too, had spent such nights, but he cared for them 
no more. He remembered his clean and restful 
bed at home, the deep sleep, and the unclouded 
waking. He resolved to go back. He hoped his 
father would flog him as he had never done before, 
and then give him another chance. He would 
work hard and pay back every cent of the money. 

Full of this thought, he passed down the first 
flight of stairs at the back of the building, won- 


106 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


dering why he had not tried to escape before. He 
found the door of the last flight locked, but a win- 
dow on the landing was open. He measured the 
distance carefully, twenty feet, to the soft snow 
beneath. He hung to the sill for a moment, and 
dropped to the ground unhurt-. Then he arose and 
turned his face toward home. 


CHAPTEE XI 


THE PEODIGAL^S EETUEN" 

The winter was the most severe that had been 
known in years. Sleighs were driven out to Turtle 
Light and, in the town, the bridge was no longer 
necessary to those who passed from shore to shore. 
The occasional cracking of the ice resounded like 
the boom of distant cannon. At night huge fires 
of logs, about which the skaters assembled to warm 
their stiffened fingers or tighten the straps on their 
feet, blazed far out on the river. By day, the ice 
boats were seen fiying before the wind like, fiocks 
of frightened birds. 

In January the moon was at the full, and straw 
rides were popular with the young people. Often 
the lonely farmers on the Perrysburg or bay shore 
road were roused from their early sleep by a jingle 
of sleigh-bells and the songs of the passing revel- 
ers. The latter, in turn, seeing the solitary light 
and hearing the watchdog bark, gave a rousing 
cheer as they swept on, nestling close together in 
the straw and blankets, young men and maidens 
in delicious moonlight intimacy. 

On such a night Tom Ambrose, was trudging 
107 


108 


THE EiaHTIHG- BISHOP 


wearily home alone. On his right he saw the great 
level valley of the river, dotted at far intervals by 
the fires, and he wondered whether Gus were one 
of the dark figures that glided so swiftly across the 
ice. If he could only find him and have the sup- 
port of his company at his home-coming! The 
skaters, however, were far away, and he was too 
tired to go in search. Six months ago he would 
not have found the nine-mile walk a formidable 
undertakings, hut now his strength began to fail. 
He passed beyond the last outlying fire, and all 
about him was spread the absolute whiteness and 
silence. He began to grow drowsy and was no 
longer conscious of the cold. A little rest could do 
no harm. He had heard of men falling asleep in 
the snow, never to wake again, but that was in 
the Arctic regions. There could be no danger 
here, especially as it had grown warmer. To- 
morrow there would be a thaw. 

He went to the side of the road and lay down 
on his back, looking up at the moon. What bed 
had ever been so soft and restful ? The weariness 
seemed to pass slowly down his body and out, 
leaving him unspeakably refreshed. 

He turned on his side and looked along the level 
of the snow. A thousand glittering stars shone 
before his eyes. He gathered a handful, and as 
they sifted slowly through his fingers he wondered 
dreamily at their perfect beauty. 


THE PEODIGAL''s KETUEH 109 

It was the stars of the sky which he saw through 
his bedroom window, on a summer night. He 
must go to sleep or he might not awake in time for 
the morning milking. 

There was a jingle of bells down the road, grow- 
ing clearer each moment, but he did not hear them. 
The sleigh stopped, and some one came crunching 
through the snow, followed by a chorus of ques- 
tions: ^Ts he deadf’ ^Ts he asleep?” ^Ts he 
drunk ?” ^Who is it ?” It was Phil Williams who 
shook him awake, and helped him to the sleigh, 
and rubbed his hands and face with snow. 

There were all degrees of tact in the party, in- 
cluding none at all, but he scarcely heard their 
questions and the ride was soon over. Still dazed, 
he stood alone by his father’s gate, watching the 
sleigh disappear in the distance. 

Mrs. Ambrose had lighted a candle and taken 
little Cyprian up stairs. She sat on the edge of 
the bed while he knelt to say his prayers beside 
her. Their breath ascended in a dim cloud, and 
the window panes showed the fantastic work of 
the frost against the moon, sparkling mountains 
and the branches of wonderful trees. One by one 
he repeated the simple petitions at her dictation, 
and when her voice broke at the name of her way- 
Avard son he whimpered in sympathy. She folded 
him in her arms and they wept together awhile in 
silence. Then she arranged the warm brick be- 


110 


THE FIOHTII^G BISHOP 


tween the blankets and tucked him in with a good 
night kiss and an admonition not to forget that 
God was with him. When she had gone the child 
gave one look at the frosted panes, and it seemed 
to him that the tracery was the, face and snowy 
beard of his heavenly Father looking in upon him. 
He knew that he ought not to fear, but he buried 
his head beneath the blankets. 

As Mrs. Ambrose reached the last step of the 
stairs her eyes rested for a moment on one of 
the panes that flanked both sides of the front door 
in narrow strips. Then she had a vision. It was 
as if she saw the white face of her son pressed for 
a moment against the glass, and suddenly with- 
drawn. She had seen that face so often in her 
dreams and in the dark when awake that now she 
scarcely dared to think he was restored to her at 
last. 

For a moment she hesitated and passed her hand 
across her eyes. A nameless terror shook her. 
What if he were dead, and this were his 
ghost ? Her knees grew weak, but love and hope 
were stronger than the phantom fear. She 
stretched out her hand and flung the door wide 
open. A breath of icy wind blew out the candle 
as she stepped into the shadow of the porch. She 
was weeping quietly, but through her tears she saw 
the wonderful white world, the leafless trees, and 
the stars that seemed to crackle with the cold in 


THE PRODIGALS RETURN 


111 


the deep blue of the winter sky. Then she turned 
and found him. 

Stephen had played a sonata through to the end, 
and was sitting silent and exalted, his nervous 
fingers clenched in his lap. The Bishop and Euse- 
bius paused in their talk by the fire, suddenly 
aware of the cessation of the music which had 
been so long in the background of their conscious- 
ness. A gust of wind from the back of the hall 
blew the front door shut with a bang that shook 
the walls. In the silence that followed they heard 
somewhere in the night a weird and confused 
sound as of voices and weeping. The Bishop 
sprang from his chair and rushed to the door. 

The family crowded about Tom. They 
hugged and kissed him and led him to the fire; 
they laughed and cried aloud. It was indeed a 
triumphal return, though the triumph was that of 
love, and not what the prodigal had planned. 
hTumb with cold, pale and exhausted, he began to 
speak : ^Tather, I will pay back all the money in 
time. I will work my hands off to pay it back. 
I— 

The Bishop alone caught the import of his words 
in the confusion. 

‘^Hot a word of that,’’ he whispered, bending 
down. ‘^That is just between us two. We will 
forget all about it and start fresh.’^ Then he 
straightened himself and spoke aloud : . ^^Mother, 


112 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


make Thomas a cup of tea ; bring him something 
to eat.” But Mrs. Ambrose had already left the 
room on her errand of love. 

Tears of gratitude, weakness, and self-pity 
welled up in Tom’s eyes. Then, for the first time, 
he noticed Anna. She came up and kissed him, 
and he ceased to cry in very shame. To him she 
was a stranger, and he could scarcely remember 
just then who she was. 

After the first outburst of emotion there was 
an awkward pause. 'No one quite knew what to 
say. It was Stephen who first broke the silence. 

guess traveling doesn’t agree with your 
health,” he remarked, hugging his knee and grin- 
ning broadly. 

Perhaps he only meant to be facetious, but he 
saw his mistake when his father turned on him 
a look of anger. Doubtless there would have been 
an outburst, but the hall door opened at this mo- 
ment and Cyprian stood in his night gown blink- 
ing on the threshold. The Bishop picked him 
up and placed him on Tom’s knees. 

^^Here’s another come to give you welcome,” he 
said. 

Tom gave his brother a hug. ^.^How are you, 
youngster?” he asked. Cyprian regarded him 
with a solemn gaze, in which there was just a 
shadow of reproach. 


THE PRODiaAL^S RETUEH 113 

''I’m glad you’ve got back,” be replied, at last. 
"I’ve cried a lot about you.” 

When Mrs. Ambrose returned with a tray of 
good things she wrapped her youngest son in a 
blanket and put him by the fire, where he warmed 
his toes and enjoyed the. rare privilege of staying 
up late, unrebuked. He was glad to escape from 
the awesome companionship of God up in the cold 
bedroom. 

Tom’s hunger was too genuine to be concealed. 
While he ate, his father resumed his pipe and 
pufied tranquilly. His mother fiuttered about and 
pressed him to eat until he could hold no more. 
Gus and Cecily enlarged on the size of the snow 
cave they had been building in the yard and the 
stores of nuts in the attic. Family prayers had 
been said, but the Bishop repeated them 
in the fulness of his heart. The only reference he 
made to Tom’s home-coming was to read the Gen- 
eral Thanksgiving, for the subject was too pal- 
pably present to need special mention, and he feared 
for his self-control. In spite of the general nature 
of the petitions he was thankful for the support 
of the voices about him as he read: "And, we 
beseech thee, give us that due sense of all thy 
mercies, that our hearts may be unfeignedly thank- 
ful ; and that we may show forth thy praise, not 
only with our lips, but in our lives, by giving up 
ourselves to thy service, and by walking before 


11^ THE EIGHTIHa BISHOP 

thee in holiness and righteousness all our days.’’ 
Tom had never known before the meaning of 
prayer and as he detected the husidness of his 
father’s voice he resolved that he would repay the 
forgiveness he so little deserved. 

That night Gus questioned his brother about his 
adventures, as they lay in bed, hugging up to each 
other for warmth; but Tom was too tired to tell 
the story. A box of apples stood near by, as of 
old, for nightly lunches. Tom put one under his 
pillow, but before it had become warm enough to 
eat he was sound asleep. 


CHAPTEE XII 


A FLUEEY m THE TEHTS OF PEACE 

Bishop Ambrose's plans for a divinity school 
were nearing completion. He had trained a num- 
ber of young men for the ministry in his own 
house and the pleasure the occupation gave him, 
inspired by his zeal for the cause and his love of 
giving instruction, had made a school on a larger 
scale the dream of his Episcopacy. By the spring 
of 1858 he had accumulated nearly twenty thou- 
sand dollars. Part of the sum was in gifts from 
those interested in the cause, but a great deal was 
the result of his own savings. He almost managed 
to live on the, income of his farm, the sale of his 
books, and the tuition fees of the small school he 
and his son taught. Most of his salary as Bishop 
he devoted to the great undertaking. 

This salary was not large. During the first year 
of his incumbency it scarcely sufficed to pay his 
postage, and now it was only one thousand dol- 
lars. It had taken him a long time to accumulate 
a sum which in these days would seem absurdly 
inadequate for the purpose. 

In all the years of effort his wife had been his 
devoted co-worker, and it was largely through her 
115 


116 


THE EIGHTING BISHOP 


thrifty management in domestic affairs that he 
was enabled to spare so much. She superintended 
the making of rag carpets, of tallow candles, and 
of soft soap. Even the working clothes of the boys 
were made by her. Wonderful garments they 
were, and mortifying to the flesh, but in her eyes 
they took on a dignity derived from the Great 
Cause. Even little Cecily was expert with the 
needle by the time she was ten years old, and with 
her it was distinctly a case of ^Vorking against 
the grain.” The making of furniture was also a 
home industry and some of the pieces would have 
done credit to a cabinet maker. 

Bishop Ambrose was now a great man among 
men, at a time, too, when striking flgures were 
more common than they became after the leveling 
tendencies of democracy had worked out the sub- 
limation of the commonplace in public life. In 
Church councils his word was always one of 
weight. He never rose to speak until sure that his 
thought was a contribution to the matter under 
discussion, and his powerful personality and 
graphic manner of presentation always won him a 
respectful hearing. He had many enemies, but 
they were offset by friends as ardent. Indiffer- 
ence would have surprised him, but he regarded 
praise and blame as his birthright. It was his in- 
stinct to place himself in a minority and he 
loved to lead a forlorn hope. He seldom gave 


IN THE TENTS OF PEACE 


117 


liis attention to a public matter without becoming 
convinced that he could manage it better himself, 
and he felt it necessary to say so in unmistakable 
language. This tendency won him the name of 
^The fighting bishop’’ and made his picture a fa- 
vorite in books on phrenology to illustrate the 
^Tump” of combativeness. 

The Roman Catholics were his chief enemies 
and almost every year he ran a tilt against some 
dignitary of that communion, with a polemical 
pamphlet for his lance. The sentiment in these 
brochures was always in effect, that Rome was the 
Antichrist and that the true Catholic Church, 
handed down from the apostles themselves, was the 
Church of England, or the Episcopal Church. In 
this body the doctrines and forms of the primitive 
Church were preserved in all their ancient purity. 
When he had his own waj he was benign and lov- 
able, but he knew not how to yield. Thus it came 
about that those who accepted his authority loved 
him as a father, while the rebellious minority 
chafed bitterly, but in vain. 

In politics he was a Democrat, and not only did 
he believe in slavery but he even favored the in- 
troduction of slaves into the territories at the op- 
tion of the individual settler. This conviction, 
maintained without reserve, was gradually mak- 
ing him widely unpopular as the confiicting feel- 
ings that culminated in the War of the Rebellion 


118 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


became more bitter. He detected this growing 
hostility, but was not dismayed. He even carried 
his head more proudly than ever, like an old war 
horse that scents the battle. How, just before his 
departure for a long sojourn in England, he fin- 
ished his book in which he set forth the Biblical 
authority for the institution of slavery and called 
upon his countrymen not to interfere with the per- 
sonal and property rights of the Southerners. He 
would have preferred to stay and fight it out, for 
his book was like a gauntlet flung as a challenge 
into a hostile camp, but a greater duty called him 
away. He made his plans to stay in England a 
year and to preach in the chief cities with the pur- 
pose of raising money for the Divinity School he 
wished to found. 

The Bishop had now reached the pinnacle of 
his prosperity and power; and though, on the 
appointed day, he read in the psalter, am a 
worm and no man,’’ and though the Church 
phrases of humility were often on his lips, yet, 
in reality, his heart was lifted up and he felt in 
his pride that God* had made his place so sure that 
his foot would never be moved. Even the disap- 
pointments he had suffered in his sons did not sub- 
due him. Of the seven, only Eusebius had as yet 
fulfilled his hope in regard to the ministry. Ber- 
nard had defied him, and was dead. Basil, while 
outwardly acquiescing, was really luke-warm. Tom 


IN THE TENTS OF PEACE 


119 


had already shown a capability for daring wicked- 
ness, and neither he nor Gus seemed to have a 
love of learning. By his attitude toward his hoys, 
as well as by his position on public questions, he 
was tempting fate as hardily as Creon tempted it 
of old. 

The Bishop’s fourth son, Stephen, was even less 
likely to follow the example of Eusebius. In vain 
his teachers tried to pound Greek, Latin, and al- 
gebra into his head. As a result of this failure he 
was not sent to college. For him, the only thing 
in life was music. He scribbled music on the fly- 
leaves of his text-books and when called on to 
recite he could have shown how he had spent his 
time by bursting into song. His father’s floggings 
only made him rebellious, and at last the 
older man stood baffled before the strange nature 
he had tried to bend to his will. Of his genius 
there could be no doubt, but it was marred by a 
wilfulness and eccentricity that bordered upon 
madness. His language was nearly always intem- 
perate. A psychological expert could have recog- 
nized in his dominant indignation against an un- 
appreciative world a kinship with those men who 
spend long years in trying to square the circle or 
in writing books about the inhabitants in the cen- 
ter of the globe. 

He was the organist in his father’s church in 
the city. On Sundays it was a flne sight to see 


120 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


the manuals of the instrument quiver beneath his 
masterful fingers while the fioor vibrated to the 
deep diapason. He seemed to be wrestling with 
the God of Music and forcing him to yield up all 
his sweetness and power, rlis genius was essen- 
tially irregular and his voluntaries recalled the 
wild improvisations of wandering gypsies. 

It was one of the evil results of the home edu- 
cation of the Bishop’s sons that they had no stand- 
ard of comparison until they went to college, and 
then it was likely to be. too late. In Stephen this 
evil effect was most apparent. He knew his genius 
and was whirled away by its fascination, but he 
did not know the value of the schools. With proper 
training he could have won a proud place in the 
musical world. His family worshiped at his 
shrine, but none could live with him in peace. 

Often, after playing like one inspired either a 
sonata of Beethoven or one of his own composi- 
tions, he would burst into tears and rush from the 
house. His sensibility often aroused the un- 
thinking cruelty of his younger brothers. He in- 
cessantly, in some subtle way, demanded notice, 
and his whole person radiated irritability. 

The Bishop had at length given up all hope of 
making a clergyman of his musical son, for he 
saw that no parish could be steered straight with 
such an erratic pilot at the wheel. When he de- 
cided to go to England he made arrangements to 


IN THE TENTS OF PEACE 


121 


take Stephen as far as hTew York, where he in- 
tended to leave him to work out a career in music. 
He had used his influence with his clerical friends 
in the metropolis and an organ position was prom- 
ised his son, with a salary sufficient for his sup- 
port. 

When the letter came, one morning in May, 
with the promise of the position, Stephen wan- 
dered about the farm like one demented, gesticu- 
lating and muttering to himself. For years he 
had felt that he was beating his wings against 
prison bars. How he would show the unapprecia- 
tive Toledoans that they had entertained an angel 
unawares. In his hand he held an imaginary 
baton with which he swayed the instruments of a 
great orchestra, and the opera they played was all 
his own composition. He walked through the 
woods along the bay shore, and the wind in the 
trees suggested the applause of a crowded hall, 
tier above tier of wondering faces. 

^^They’ll all be glad enough to shake hands with 
poor little me, some day he cried aloud. 

A mocking shout from behind some bushes 
greeted his words. He heard his hated nick-name 
called by Cecily and Gus, ^^Step-hen! Step-hen!’’ 
This was a family joke, dating from the time when 
he had flrst seen his name in print, while reading 
the Hew Testament aloud to his mother, and, fail- 
ing to recognize it, had pronounced the syllables 


122 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


separately. He tossed his head haughtily and pre- 
tended not to hear. As he strode away, his head a 
foot in advance of his long, thin body and every 
motion showing his scorn, his quaint appearance 
aroused renewed mirth in his tormentors. 

Anna met him at the door on his return. 

^^Isn’t it fine, Stephen?” she said. ^^How you 
will have a chance, and become a great musician. 
I wish I could go along with you.” 

How silly she looked, with her propitiating 
smile ! So she was beginning to seek his favor at 
last. He could think of no words sufficiently strong 
to express his opinion of her preposterous pleas- 
antry. ^^You !” he exclaimed, scornfully, and 
brushed past her without another word. 

After dinner Basil took him aside. ^^Stephen,” 
he said, ^^you remember you promised to go over 
to the Brierlys with me sometime and play for 
them on the piano. You know what ^sometime^ is 
apt to mean. Why not go with me this after- 
noon ?” 

^^I^m tired of playing for people,” was the an- 
swer. ^^I^m not a curiosity to be exhibited about 
in country farmhouses ; but I’ll go for you, Bas. 
You’ve always treated me decent.” 

When they were on the river he allowed Basil 
to do the rowing while he sat in the stern with 
the steering oar in his hand and outlined his future 
triumphs in Hew York. Basil listened with sym- 


IN THE TENTS OF PEACE 


123 


pathy. The relation between the two was peculiar. 
Basil was by nature magnanimous and inclined to 
say less than he thought. He felt, also, that his 
brother got more criticism from some sources than 
was good for him, and he went to the other ex- 
treme. The result was inevitable. Little by lit- 
tle Stephen began to impose upon him. Mingled 
with his appreciation of his brother’s kindness was 
a touch of the contempt which a small nature feels 
toward one who treats him more generously 
than he deserves. Basil alone among his 
brothers was a conspicuous failure as a 
musician, and this fact increased his respect 
for Stephen’s ability. On the other hand, Basil’s 
abilities were just those that appeared to the musi- 
cian of least account. Above all, his brother’s love 
affair stirred his deep and cynical amusement. 
It was just the stupid thing he expected Basil to 
do. How little he realized the other’s answering 
judgment ! In fact, it was only because Basil did 
not take him seriously as a responsible being that 
he passed by in silence words he would not have al- 
lowed another to speak. He said to himself that 
in Stephen’s case a rich gift of nature was offset 
by a lack of understanding that was irremediable, 
just as, in Homer, the old bard Demodocus had re- 
ceived from the Fates the gift of sweet song at the 
sacrifice of his sight. How, for the first time, he 
realized that his forbearance might be due, to a 


124 


THE riGHTIHO BISHOP 


certain extent, to a desire for peace. Stephen’s 
eccentricities wonld soon be exposed to the merci- 
less criticism of the world and might injure, or 
even rnin, his career. He felt convicted of selfish- 
ness, and cast about in his mind for some way to 
give him a word or two of advice. 

^^Stephen,” he said, at last, don’t want you 
to he offended at what I am going to say. I want 
you to realize that my one desire is to give you a 
few hints that may help you when you get to Hew 
York.” 

His brother looked up, startled at this unex- 
pected beginning from one, of whose admiration he 
had always been so sure. Basil saw a slight flash 
of indignation in his eyes, hut he continued un- 
deterred. 

^^It has sometimes seemed to me that you antag- 
onize people unnecessarily, and then resent the 
hostility you have caused. If you can’t get along 
well with your own family the chances are that 
you won’t he able to get on any better with other 
people. After all, the world is like a mirror and 
gives us hack our own reflection. You really ought 
to cultivate the art of getting on with people, even 
if they are irritating. How, take sarcasm, for 
instance. Hothing is easier, or more deceptive. 
A sarcastic man is apt to pride himself on his dis- 
cernment, when he ought to ask whether it isn’t 
rather lack of heart or understanding that en- 


IN THE TENTS OF PEACE 


125 


ables him to use a weapon that more mellow na- 
tures will not use. He takes their forbearance for 
stupidity.’’ 

He had begun calmly, almost judiciously, but 
as he went on a suspicion of his brother’s contempt 
fired him to an unexpected self-justification. 

^^Why, any one could be sarcastic,” he continued. 
“I could say sharp things myself, like, your re- 
mark about the Brierlys, for example. Perhaps 
you didn’t mean it, but, if so, why didn’t you let it 
pass ? What’s the use of saying such things ?” 

Basil had meant to be impersonal and tactful, 
but it was the implied sneer at Imogen which 
aroused the resentment he had never felt on his 
own account. 

Stephen gave the oar a nervous twitch that al- 
most brought the boat about. He was deeply 
wounded. 

suppose you have no faults of your own!” 
he snapped. can’t help it if the world is full 
of fools!” 

Basil spoke with answering heat, but still with 
a desire to remember his first purpose. 

^That remark of yours is an example of the 
thing I mean. Where are you steering us ? There, 
that’s more like it. There was no need of that 
sweeping condemnation, especially as it claims an 
absolute superiority on your own part. With me, 
such remarks don’t make any difference, but they 


126 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


might lose yon a possible friend outside. That 
isnT the motive I intended to speak of so strongly. 
The right or wrong of the thing is the main con- 
sideration, of course; but you ought to think of 
the practical effect, too. Of course I have faults 
of my own, many of them ; but it is also true that I 
havenT any special ability, like yours, to be ruined 
by them. There; let^s drop it. Only, sometime 
when’ you feel that everyone is against you, stop 
a^id consider whether there isn’t something in 
what I’ve said.” 

The close of this speech was distinctly propitia- 
tory and it also held a compliment. Stephen an- 
swered with condescension but ill concealed. 

guess I can get along all right. In Hew 
York I’ll find people who can appreciate music. 
There aren’t any here.” 

^^That’s true,” his brother admitted. Then he 
continued, almost to himself : ^^Men of great abil- 
ity are often eccentric, and people accept it in 
them. They often regard it as a proof of genius, 
even.” 

^T’m no more eccentric than you are !” Stephen 
cried, with sudden, uncontrollable irritation. 
^^Can’t you let me alone ? I didn’t know you 
brought me out here to give me a lecture. You’re 
jealous ; that’s the trouble with you !” 

The charge seemed too preposterous to need de- 
nial, and they both relapsed into sullen silence, 


IN THE TENTS OF PEACE 


127 


■which continued until they reached the shore. As 
they walked along the road Basil, ashamed of their 
mutual anger, tried to start a conversation about 
trifles, hut he was met only with reluctant mono- 
syllables. 

They found Imogen sitting on the veranda, 
for the day was warm. Basil thought her happy 
and trustful smile had never been more irresisti- 
ble, and hoped it would win Stephen to self-^^or- 
getfulness. She seemed as much pleased with the 
news of his chance in 'New York as if it were, a 
personal happiness to herself. Stephen, ever on 
the outlook for ulterior motives, believed that she 
was sweet to him in order that she might get him 
to play, and this suspicion kept him obstinate. A 
plan began to take shape in his mind. He would 
refuse to play, and then if she continued to treat 
him just as well he would know that her sweet- 
ness was genuine, and not assumed for a purpose. 
She appeared in no hurry to ask him, however, and 
he began to fear that he should have no opportu- 
nity to put his theory to the test. 

The other two were obliged to make the conver- 
eation, for it seemed to Stephen a good oppor- 
tunity to show his brother that he was not to he 
criticized with impunity. He continued, therefore, 
offish and monosyllabic. He sat uneasily in his 
chair, his long, nervous fingers closing and un- 
closing incessantly, or beating a tattoo on his knees. 


12S 


THE FIGHTIlSrG BISHOP 


He alternately thrust out his legs and drew them 
back, crossed and uncrossed them, with a quick, 
irritable motion. He kept curling up his toes in 
his boots, so that when his foot was extended the 
motion could be clearly seen through the leather. 
It conveyed to Basihs distressed mind an uncanny 
impression of something that wriggled in its efforts 
to escape. 

If his hostess observed these eccentricities she 
gave no indication of it. She merely thought he 
was nervous, and. tried to put him at his ease. 
Eugenie brought them lemonade on a silver tray, 
and Imogen asked if her father were awake. She 
explained that he always took a nap after dinner. 
The question showed Stephen why he had not 
been requested to play before. The old man was 
not to be disturbed, it appeared. He resolved that 
she should see how needless her caution had been. 

Mr. Brierly came slowly out of the shadowed 
hall, looking more Merlin-like than ever as the af- 
ternoon sun fell upon his face. 

have heard my daughter speak of you,” he 
said, as he took Stephen’s hand. ‘^You are the 
young man who plays the organ in your father’s 
church. I have seen the back of your head once 
or twice as you sat at the organ, for I sometimes 
go to church when I happen to be in town of a 
Sunday. You have a remarkable gift, sir ; it was a 
great pleasure to hear you. Won’t you play for 


IN THE TENTS OE PEACE 129 

US on the piano ? I don’t believe it is in very good 
tune. My daughter has quite neglected her music 
of late for her garden.” 

Stephen fidgeted and drew away his hand, 
which the old man had retained in a kindly grasp 
as he spoke. 

don’t know how to play,” he announced. 
^^That is, I don’t play the piano very well. Ask 
your daughter to play, won’t you ?” He turned to 
her. ^^You play. I don’t know how.” 

^^Certainly,” she replied, laughing, ^^but you 
have only yourself to blame for the infliction. It 
will give you time to think over your repertory.” 

^^Yes,” her father assented. ^We’ll save the 
good wine till the last, as they did at Cana of 
Galilee.” 

Imogen stepped through the. open window into 
the parlor and began to play. 

^H’ve heard you don’t believe in the Bible,” 
Stephen remarked, with a touch of hostility in his 
tone. shouldn’t think you’d quote it.” 

believe in several bibles,” Mr. Brierly re- 
plied, gently. Then he added with a twinkle of 
amusement in his eyes : ^^What is it they say ? The 
devil can quote scripture for his own purposes?” 

Stephen began to stammer an apology, but his 
host rescued him by turning the subject again 
to music. When Imogen returned she claimed 
what she called her reward for making an exhibi- 


130 


THE EIGIITIHG BISHOP 


tion of lier incapacity ; but Steplieii kept liis seat. 
He seemed to be suffering from extreme nervous- 
ness, and bis face was flushed. 

said I didn’t know how, didn’t I? That’s 
what I’m going to Hew York for, to learn. I don’t 
know anything about music. Any one who doesn’t 
know as much about music as Mozart, for example, 
can’t be said to know anything at all.” 

Basil made a false move, in his despair. He 
went to his brother’s chair and tried to pull him 
to his feet, as if it were all a joke. As he felt 
Stephen’s fingers he noticed that they were cold 
and clammy, and he saw beads of perspiration on 
his brow. 

^Het me alone, Bas !” he cried. don’t know 
how to play. You play!” 

With these words he wrenched himself free, 
seized his hat, and bounded from the veranda. 

^T’ll play for you when I come back from Hew 
York!” he shouted. Then he broke into a run. 

Basil sank into his chair, speechless with humili- 
ation, while Imogen and her father exchanged a 
bewildered glance. 

^^Oh, dear !” she exclaimed, in sweet contrition, 
^‘what did I say to offend him 

Meanwhile Stephen was rushing down the road, 
dashing aside the tears with his clenched fist. 

^Tools !” he cried passionately ; ^ffools ! It serves 
them right!” 


CHAPTEK XIII 


AIT ISHMAELITE 

Xew York, Oct. 12th, 1858. 

Mj Dear Bas : 

Your letter received and would have been an- 
swered sooner, hut I am up to mj neck in all sorts 
of affairs and have little time for correspondence. 
Was glad to hear that you had a visit from a 
clergyman and his daughter. It must have been 
quite a wonderful event in your little corner of the 
world. And the daughter plays on the piano, no 
doubt! Most daughters do, including Mr. Bri- 
erly’s. You might as well set them to playing 
on a brass kettle with a club ; the music would be 
as fine and would be stripped of the absurdity of 
artistic pretension. I have some of the dear crea- 
tures for my pupils. Their ambition is to play 
some pindiddle trash as a means of entrapping 
their admirers, and they can quote ^^Music hath 
charms,’’ etc. 

The rector of the church where I have the 
honor (?) to he organist, the Kev. Mr. Dunn, is 
quite a decent fellow in his way. He’s one of 
those funny little pompous men. The great 
trouble with my Reverend friend is that he thinks 
he knows something about music. He actually 
131 


132 


THE EIGHTING BISHOP 


criticized one of mj Te Deiims whicli I had 
the choir sing without consulting his ^^Kiver- 
ince.” He said it was too ^^ficrid’’ and not 
^^churchly.” I told him it was high time some one 
reformed the music of the church, and that I pro- 
posed to do it myself. He pulled in his horns af- 
ter that, I can tell you, and made some remarks 
about respecting the opinions of a son of Bishop 
Ambrose. 

Some day he shall respect my opinions for my 
own sake, not for the sake of my father. I’m be- 
coming tired of reflected glory. I’m always intro- 
duced as ^^a son of Bishop Ambrose.” Some day 
I’ll he introduced only as myself, or rather I shall 
need no introduction at all. 

And yet, I must confess it is an advantage to he 
who I am, for father’s name is a kind of ^^open 
sesame.” You ought to have seen the crowd that 
came to hear him preach in Old Trinity on his way 
to England. I’ll play the organ in that church 
one of these days ; see if I don’t. 

You needn’t take the trouble to write me any 
news about ^^Anna, the Prophetess.” I don’t con- 
sider that mincing fool worth the ink that it cost 
you to send me her valuable regards. 

But let me tell you about my hoarding-place. 
We have a most interesting assortment of freaks 
at our table. There is an old maid with greasy 
curls and nerves, and a Columbia student who is so 


AN ISIIMAELITE 


133 


conceited over his Greek and Latin that I expect 
him to inflate himself and sail off, like a balloon. 
He’s light enough to. His name’s Kood, bnt I told 
him he ought to spell it ^Hude.” I said that be- 
cause of his insulting comparison between Co- 
lumbia and Kenyon. Said his college was the best. 
I told him you and Spec had forgotten more than 
he ever knew, and you went to Kenyon. Then he 
wanted to know how many kisses I charged my 
pretty pupils ! I haven’t noticed him since. He 
pretends not to care and sits chuckling like a fool 
and making side remarks. Asked our landlady 
whether she thought music could influence tame, 
beasts, for the Greeks said it could soften the 
hearts of wild ones. She didn’t see the pit and 
answered that she supposed it could. Then he 
suggested that I be asked to play the piano while 
the steak was cooking to see whether music would 
soften that. I give you that as a specimen of the 
conversation of that intellectual giant. There’s a 
school teacher at the table who always cackles at 
his jokes and that encourages him. I’m sick of tho 
whole crowd, and if it wasn’t too much trouble I’d 
move to-morrow. 

I have two rooms, my bedroom and my music- 
room. The latter is large and looks out on Four- 
teenth Street. What time I can spare from my or- 
gan and my pupils I am giving to the composition 
of my opera. I am writing both the libretto and 


134 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


the score myself. You ask me to tell you all about 
it. You must think I have nothing to do but write 
letters. If I wrote you all about it, I might as 
well send the whole MS. and be done with it. But 
I’ll give you an idea. It’s a comic opera for chil- 
dren, an allegory with an educational purpose, 
called ^^Little Pumpkin.” There is a fine cauldron 
scene, in which I boil the critics alive ! Wait till 
I get it done ! Then I’ll go around to the public 
schools and drum up children and teach them 
how to sing it. 

It is kind of Miss Brierly to send me her re- 
gards. She is a great exception to the average girl, 
and I quite agree with you in your high estimate 
of her. But I hope you aren’t contemplating mat- 
rimony! Why not be engaged all your life and 
never get married ? Then you will always find her 
pleasant. A woman gets all the advantage in a 
marriage, and she knows it. That’s why she’s so 
sweet to a man till she gets him. She flatters and 
smiles and hurries ^^dovey” into the marriago 
noose, and then she draws it tight. The trouble 
with girls is that they are so deceitful, but the 
poor things don’t fool any one with brains. 

January 20th, 1859. 

At last I have made n.y debut, dear Bas ! Be- 
hold me, like Byron, made famous over night ! I 
gave my first concert in .Steinway Hall “before 


AIS- ISHMAELITE 


135 


a large and fashionable audience,” as the clipping 
from the Herald, which I inclose, described it. I 
shall write the editor a letter, however, and tell 
him what I think of him for calling mo ^^a long, 
slim and winding prodigy.” If that’s ^^American 
humor” I’m ashamed of my country’s conception 
of it. I sent the paper complimentary tickets, too ! 
He’ll be sorry for his manners. My friend Tenny, 
who plays first violin at \Yallack’s, advised me to 
call the fellow out. 

Well, you should have seen your little Stephen 
when he came out in his swallow-tail and big shirt 
front and bowed to the ^darge and fashionable!” 
I gave them my great left-hand piece, and for an 
encore Mendelssohn’s Spring Song. My shirt and 
collar were limp as a rag when I finished. I gave 
little talks between the pieces on my theory of 
educating children in music from the very cradle, 
and said that w^hat we needed was not more spank- 
ing and grammar, but more music. 

There was wild applause when I finished with 
Beethoven’s ^^Moonlight,” and I held a regular re- 
ception of my admirers afterwards. There was 
one old fool, however, I must tell you about. He 
is a German music teacher of some local repute, I 
believe, a fogy who thinks there is no way but the 
old way. 

^^My dear sir,” he said, ^^^you haf some talents, 
but you haf some need of the training. You Come to 


136 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


me and I give yon tlie solid training, then yon 
become a trnly great mnsician. I haf seen lots of 
yonng people go wrong. They are too what yon 
call smart, and they never get anywhere in the 
end.’^ 

Every one else had gone. I saw he wanted to 
get some money ont of me, and when I succeeded 
he wanted all the credit of having trained me. I 
told him to mind his own bnsiness and give his 
advice to people who liked beer and sansages. Then 
I tnrned on my heel. Gness he wonT bother me 
again! Those Germans are so conceited. They 
think no one bnt themselves knows anything about 
music, but ITl show them! 

I lay in bed the next morning and read the 
newspaper accounts of my concert. Most of them 
were good, with the exception of the insulting per- 
sonal remark in the Herald and one musical jour- 
nal which I have since seen. The article in this 
latter is evidently inspired by jealousy. The writer 
said it was not properly music at all, but only one 
^Triumphant bang” from beginning to end ! 
He asserted also that in my talks I spoke out of 
^The fulness of my inexperience!” I’ll get even 
with him some day. I’ll publish a musical journal 
myself, and then we’ll see who’s who ! They have 
their pets and their favorites, and have no desire 
for fair play. I inclose my circular. 


AN ISHMAELITE 


137 


Eebruary IStli, 1859. 

I am reaping the reward that this clever world 
of onrs always gives to geniuses in their lifetimes. 
The critics have fallen upon me tooth and nail and 
are trying to tear me in pieces. One of them said 
my circular was ^^a shrill scream of conceit.” One 
must scream to reach the long ears of the majority 
of his fellow-men. The critics made it so hard for 
me to get a hall for another concert that I have 
had to try the country towns. I couldn’t get Stein- 
way’s again. He said he lost money on me ; that 
complimentary tickets didn’t pay for light and 
heat. He said I’d have to pay the next time in ad- 
vance. 

Last week I went to Passaic. I tried to get one 
of our clergymen there to let me have his church, 
because that organ was the only good one in town. 
His refusal was based on the fact that the church 
was a ^^consecrated building!” However, he got 
permission for me to use the Congregational organ, 
which was a miserable affair and naturally spoiled 
everything. The reeds were all out of tune, and 
the blower let the wind out in the midst of a diffi- 
cult pedal passage that required every breath. I 
thought I would go crazy. The cold sweat broke 
out all over me. I jumped from the seat and ran 
back and gave him a good shake. The stupid 
clodhopper I He said afterward that I struck him, 
which was a lie. 


138 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


Our minister asked me to spend the night with 
him. He said he had once heard father preach 
and wanted me to talk Church all the time. I had 
to listen to his daughter plaj the piano, too. Then 
he asked me what I thought of her ^^ahility.’’ 
Wanted a professional opinion for nothing, I sup- 
pose. Eather cheeky, I thought, considering how 
he had acted about his old organ. Just before he 
went to bed he mentioned my circulars, and ad- 
vised me to soften them somewhat. He thought 
that would improve them. I told him I knew my 
own business best. Then he apologized and said 
he only wished to do a son of Bishop Ambrose a 
kindness. There you are again! I thought I 
should fly out of my skin ! I left early the next 
morning, and that’s the last he’ll ever see of me. 
Some other time I’ll tell you my opinion of min- 
isters, but now I’ll not waste my time. 

February 16 th, 1859. 

Just after posting my letter to you yesterday I 
received yours, criticizing my circular. It’s too 
bad I wrote you about the minister in Passaic 
who disapproved of it, since now I see that you 
sympathize with him in that point of view. I 
wouldn’t have sent you one if I had foreseen your 
suffering. I’m much obliged to you for taking 
your valuable time from serious studies in Hebrew 
and Love to pen me a lecture. Evidently you be- 


AN ISHMAELITE 


139 


lieve that you are your brother’s keeper. Pray 
disabuse your mind of that impression. I can 
take care of myself. I can’t see that you have 
succeeded so well in life that you can give me any 
advice about ^%etting on with people.” It seems 
to me that you are still mooning away your time 
in a very small corner of the world, while I have 
already made a name for myself in 'New York. 

Perhaps you don’t know that I am considered 
one of the best organists in the city by those who 
aren’t jealous. As to my manner of advertising 
my concerts, when I want advice on that subject 
I’ll ask for it. That’s right and natural ! When 
every one else is throwing stones at me it’s time for 
my own brother to join in ! I see now I was well 
named, for I tell you I am being martyred in a 
grand cause, the cause of the children of America. 
The next generation will do me justice, even if 
this one stones me. I can stand it; fire away! 
Every man who is in advance of his time has to 
stand such treatment. When the world catches up 
with him it finds out that he was a hero, the hero 
of an idea. I warn you. It’s no use. I can take 
it from strangers, but not from you. If you send 
me another such letter it will be the last you ever 
hear from me. 

April 1st, 1859. 

This is April Fools’ Pay and I’ll fool you by 


140 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


sending yon a letter. Yon didn’t expect me to 
write again, I snppose, bnt we’ll let by-gones be 
by-gones. I don’t snppose yon meant all yon said. 
I’ve got to tell somebody wbat has happened. 

Well, I’ve given np my organ position, and all 
becanse of the meanness and tyranny of the rector ! 
He’s like all the rest of them, a perfect hypocrite. 
They’re all hypocrites, confonnd them ! They prate 
of love, bnt how mnch of it have they got in their 
hearts ? How mnch, I’d like to know ? I shonld 
think they wonld let a man who knows something 
abont mnsic work ont his theories, and not spoil 
everything by their interference. 

Things had been getting worse between Dnnn 
and me for some time. Last Satnrday night he 
sent me the list of hymns for the next day and 
specified the tnnes I was to nse. I had composed 
a tnne of my own for another hymn and wanted 
to try it ; so I snbstitnted my hymn for one on his 
list. He came in before service the next morning 
and saw I had posted a different hymn on the 
board. Then he came up to the organ, just as I 
was getting ready to play my prelude, and said 
I had made a mistake. I said, not at all; I had 
a tune of my own I wanted to try. He informed 
me then that my hymn was not in accord with the 
sentiment of his sermon (see the conceit of the 
man, as if his sermon was the all-important thing !) 


AlSr ISHMAELITE 


141 


and, moreover, he told me that he was the lawful 
director of the music. 

Thereupon he sent the sexton to change the 
hymn back to the one he had chosen. 

That was enough for me. I determined to get 
even with him if it cost me my position as organ- 
ist, especially as I saw the soprano whisper and 
laugh with the tenor, a disagreeable and conceited 
ass. I made up my mind that somehow I^d get 
even with them all at the same time, and just as we 
began the Te Deum I saw how it could be done. 

We had come to the words, ^^The glorious com- 
pany of the Apostles praise thee,” and I was to 
come down with a great crescendo on ^^praise 
thee.” Instead of that, I stopped suddenly, 
slammed down the cover of the organ, and sprang 
from my seat. I had the key in my pocket and 
knew they couldn’t open the organ again that serv- 
ice. Before they knew what had happened I had 
got my hat and disappeared out the side door, 
leaving them with their silly mouths wide open! 
I don’t know what happened after that, but I guess 
they made a fine exhibition of themselves. 

The next day his ^^Biverince” waited upon me 
and wanted to know whether I had been sick. I 
said no, but vouchsafed no other explanation. He 
said he supposed I understood that my services 
were no longer needed. I replied that it was not 


142 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


he who had discharged me, hut I who refused 
longer to he dominated by his petty tyrannies. 

Then he demanded the key, which I gave him. 
Just before he left he informed me that I had 
bitten off my nose to spite my face; and I told 
him that my nose and my face were my own to do 
with as I pleased, and that I preferred to live hon- 
orably without a nose rather than to have one 
that poked itself into other people’s affairs. That 
was a facer, I can tell you ! He said that he was 
sorry, for my father’s sake, that I was so unrea- 
sonable and went away. I unreasonable! The 
idiot ! It’s all his own doing. He has been trying 
to drive me from the church by a series of petty 
persecutions ever since I came, and now I suppose 
he -is felicitating himself upon his success. 

I’ll explain it to father when he comes back ; see 
if I don’t. But I’m independent of him and his 
kind. I’m playing the piano at Hiblo’s Theater 
every night now in the orchestra, and get two dol- 
lars a day for it. I got the place at once. Be- 
sides, I have some of my old pupils left, though I 
have lost a few, doubtless because of the slanders 
of my reverend friend. 

The theater job is a good pot-boiler for the time 
being, but as soon as my opera succeeds I’ll give it 
up. It is just thump, thump, thump, in accom- 
paniment to trashy music. The leader is another 
petty tyrant, but fortunately he doesn’t gag me 


AI^ ISHMAELITE 


143 


with anj hypocritical religious cant. The other 
men are a drinking, swearing gang. They go out 
between acts to guzzle beer. I hate the stuff, and 
I hate their nasty tobacco; so they are already 
beginning to call me names, like ^^parson’’ and 
^^mama’s boy.’’ They’ll be coming to the ^^parson” 
for a place in his orchestra some day, and they 
won’t get it, either. They’ll find out then what 
their insults have cost them. 


CHAPTEK Xiy 


THE BISHOP AS A DEUS EX MACHIXA. 

Stephen's fortunes went from bad to worse. He 
made enemies with fatal ease, and a fortnight after 
writing his April Fool letter to Basil he had lost 
his position as pianist in Xihlo’s orchestra. He 
disagreed with the leader in regard to the tempo 
of a certain coda and went ahead of the baton 
to show his conception of the piece. When the 
leader dismissed him he left with a stinging re- 
mark, more firmly convinced than ever of the ill- 
nature and ill-will of mankind against himself. 

Fortunately the Bishop was to return soon from 
England, and though Stephen feared his father to 
a certain extent, yet he persuaded himself that the 
tale of his wrongs would arouse the old man’s in- 
dignation against his enemies. He believed that 
his father would be both able and willing to put 
him on his feet once more. 

Although Stephen had no so-called small vices 
he was not economical by nature, and his funds 
were running short. The rent of his two large 
rooms and of his piano, the purchase of music and 
ornaments, always kept him a little behind his in- 
144 


A DEUS EX MACHIXA 


145 


come. His landlady began to fear for her account, 
which was somewhat in arrears. When she inti- 
mated that a settlement was necessary, in case he 
wished longer to retain his rooms, he, called her a 
cormorant, hut turned over in his mind various 
plans for raising a sufficient sum to tide him over 
the interval until his father should arrive. He 
had heard his fellow-musicians speak jocosely of 
^Hncle Isaac,’’ a Jew, who often advanced them 
money on their watches or instruments, and de- 
cided to seek a loan from the same source. Such 
a course was infinitely better than a personal ap- 
plication to his acquaintances. Whatever the cause, 
he had to admit to himself that during his year 
in Hew York he had not won a single friend. The 
thought of a possible rebuff from one of the men 
he so despised was unendurable. 

He waited until every cent was gone and his 
landlady was openly impolite at the table before 
he could nerve, himself to the ordeal of going to a 
pawnbroker. It was impossible for him to regard 
it merely as a business transaction. To. him there 
was something disgraceful in such a method of 
borrowing money. It seemed like a confession of 
failure and a prophecy of deeper degradation. The 
descriptions of pawn shops in the ^^Sketches by 
Boz” recurred to his mind and intensified his re- 
luctance. 

Still, he feared to have his father discover how 


146 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


far he had fallen behind. He wished to present 
as good a case as possible, and, above all, still to be 
in possession of his rooms and not a wanderer on 
the streets. 

One evening he wrapped up some winter clothes 
in a newspaper and sat in his room waiting for the 
friendly concealment of darkness. He passed down 
the stairs undetected, but on the porch he en- 
countered the student smoking a cigar with a 
friend. The men merely nodded as he passed, but 
he felt that his bundle betrayed his errand as 
clearly as if it had found a voice, after the manner 
of inanimate objects in fairy tales, and was crying 
out: ^^Help! help! I^m being carried off to the 
pawn shop!’’ 

When he reached his destination on Broadway 
he paused to look up and down the street lest 
some one he knew should see him enter such a 
place. He edged gradually toward the door, and 
when he saw that none of the rapidly passing 
crowd was paying the slightest attention to him 
he shot behind the screen that shut off the interior 
of the shop from view. 

Only one other prospective borrower was pres- 
ent, and the pawnbroker was testing some gold 
trinkets in a small pair of scales. Stephen turned 
his back until the transaction was finished, al- 
though a glance showed him that the man was a 
stranger. He heard the Jew say “fifty cents,” to 


A DEUS EX MACHINA 


147 


which the customer made no reply, and presently 
departed. Then he went to the counter and put 
down his bundle. 

Without a word the man broke the string and 
ripped open the package. Stephen felt a pe- 
culiar mortification as he saw his garments so 
familiarly handled by such a person. Nothing es- 
caped the fellow’s observation. He examined 
every seam and lining with minute care, while 
his customer poured forth a stream of half-de- 
fiant, half-supplicating explanations. 

^T’ll redeem them very soon. My father will 
be here in a week or so. It’s just a temporary 
strait. I have enemies who brought me to this 
pass.” 

He paused, chilled by the other’s impassive face. 
The Jew did not appear to be listening to his 
words. He threw the clothes down. 

^^How much do you want ?” 

think about ten dollars will do,” Stephen 
suggested. ^T’ll redeem ” 

^^Can’t do it. Lining cheap and worn. Can’t 
let out the seams. Keady-made clothes, anyhow. 
I couldn’t sell them till next winter, and I have 
to keep the moths out of them all summer. I’m 
stocked up with such stuff.” 

told you I’d come and get them in a week !” 
Stephen reiterated, with rising heat. ^^Didn’t you 
bear me?” 


148 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


The personality of the pawnbroker irritated 
him almost beyond control. He was a stout, clean- 
shaven young man, with sensuality and lurking 
brutality written on his heavy features. He looked 
dully at the nervous youth, in whom there, was no 
suggestion of the physical, and almost departed 
from his usual attitude of mind to the extent of 
entertaining toward him an answering dislike. He 
pushed the bundle insolently away and said sim- 
ply: ^Two dollars.’^ 

Stephen took the clothes and began to tie them 
up with shaking fingers. 

^^You must take me for a fool!’’ he cried 
shrilly. paid twenty-five dollars for that suit 

only a short time ago, and it’s scarcely worn at 
all. You must think I’m a fool, I say ! When my 
father comes he can redeem the clothes twenty 
times over. I guess you’re the fool, instead of 
me. You don’t know which side your bread’s but- 
tered on. I’ll let my friends know of your meth- 
ods. I’ll ” 

The Jew’s heavy eyes glowed with sudden an- 
ger. He lurched forward over the counter and 
made a motion as if to strike. Stephen shrank 
back like a frightened child and made for the door. 
Pursued by a torrent of abuse and profanity, he 
fled from the place, pale with terror and rage. 
He continued his flight with what speed he could 


A DEUS EX MACIIIXA 


149 


along the crowded sidewalk, chattering impotent 
threats. 

At last he sank down exhausted upon a dry- 
goods box in front of a wholesale house in a side 
street. It was evident, he told himself, that he had 
been misinformed about Jews. He had always 
heard stories illustrating qualities in them the re- 
verse of warlike and a willingness to endure any 
insults for the sake of gain. But this fellow was 
a perfect devil. Perhaps, however, he was an ex- 
ception to the rule. He became convinced that 
this was so, and decided to try some other place. 

Inspired with new courage, he crossed over to 
the Bowery and walked slowly, looking for an- 
other sign of the three gilded balls. He. began to 
plan to return to Isaac’s after he had got ten 
dollars for the clothes that he might flourish the 
money in the fellow’s face. On second thought, it 
seemed more prudent to write him a letter the next 
day and denounce him as a thief and a usurer. 
He would not give his address and would sign 
the letter; ^^The young man you insulted last 
night, who wouldn’t take the trouble to come back 
and spit in your face because he was unwilling to 
do you the favor of washing ofl some of the dirt.” 
He turned the sentence over in his mind and be- 
gan to chuckle as he visualized the Jew’s helpless 
rage. 

During the next hour he entered half a dozen 


150 


THE EIGHTII^G BISHOP 


pawn shops and saw in most of them the bearded 
and gesticulating individual he had expected to 
meet at first. From all of them he received the 
same valuation of his clothes. 'Not one said more 
nor less than ^^two dollars,’’ He began to suspect 
that there was a conspiracy; that they had some 
secret method of communication and were deter- 
mined to rob him. 

At last he reached Chatham Square, weary and 
discouraged. He leaned against a lamp post and 
looked about. It was the toughest part of the city, 
the district from which Fernando Wood drew his 
untidy constituency of rufiians, called in the slang 
of the day, ^^the dead rabbits.” He sickened with 
disgust and fear at the horrible faces that flashed 
by in the uncertain gaslight. This very place had 
been to Tom full of excitement and interest, even 
of romance, but to Stephen it was an inferno. 
A saloon door opposite him swung to and fro as 
men passed in and out. He saw them crowd up to 
the long, polished bar, and noted the background 
of bottles against the mirror. 

Drunken men lurched by, singing ribald songs. 
A trull passed slowly and looked curiously at him. 
Presently she came back and paused by his side. 
He saw the painted face grinning up into his. 
^^Where are you going, my dear ?” she asked. He 
pushed her from him with an inarticulate cry of 
loathing, and retraced his steps up the Bowery. 


A DEUS EX MAGIIINA 


151 


He was entirely without money and too much 
exhausted to walk home. There was only one thing 
to do. His father need never know about the 
clothes, and he himself would not miss them till 
winter. Surely, his fortunes would mend in the 
meantime. He entered the shop he had last left 
and flung the bundle on the counter. 

^TTl take two dollars,’’ he said. When he re- 
ceived the money he ran out, forgetting his ticket, 
and jumped on a car. Once in his room he shut 
the door and flung himself on the bed in an 
agony of tears. 

The next day he pacifled his landlady by prom- 
ising that his father would pay the bill when he 
came. Then he shut himself up in his room and 
worked feverishly on his opera. His pupils had 
dwindled to tw^o and he was almost undisturbed. 
The greatness of his object and the success he felt 
attending his efforts brought to his troubled spirit 
the flrst quiet happiness he had ever enjoyed. He 
was working for the children of America, and yet 
any one child would have been to him unendur- 
able. At the table he was haughty and reserved, 
and persistently refused to walk into any of the 
traps the fun-loving student dug before him. At 
other hours the rest of the inmates of the house 
heard from his room solitary rich chords, or lovely 
bits of melody, mingled with the, noises of the 
streets. When he continued his work late into the 


152 THE EIGHTING BISHOP 

night he heard thumps of protest above his head 
or on the wall of the adjoining room. 

At last the Bishop came. Stephen met him as 
he left the steamer and went with him to the 
Astor House. The old man’s eyes turned fondly 
toward the slim youth at his side. This was not 
his favorite son and his character had become 
an insoluble riddle. How, however, he forgot all 
the irreconcilabilities of the past in the joy of his 
home-coming. When they reached the room at the 
hotel the Bishop sat by the window and lighted 
the familiar pipe. As the two great egotists faced 
each other the younger one asked no questions 
about his father’s trip. He merely fidgeted in his 
chair and glanced nervously into the street and 
back again. The Bishop volunteered some details 
concerning the passage over, which had been inter- 
esting and pleasant. 

^^Good weather?” his son repeated absently. 
^^That’s good. Good weather ?” 

There was something so idiotic in the boy’s 
words and manner that his father looked at him 
sharply. He noticed for the first time that he was 
thin and worn and that his clothes were shabby. 

^^Tell me about yourself,” he said. 

Stephen plunged into a recital of his wrongs. 
He explained the enmities that had blocked his 
way at every step, the lack of appreciation, and 
the jealousies. His father listened attentively. 


A DEUS EX MACHIXA 


153 


even patiently. This strange 5on of his never 
aroused him to anger as Tom so often did. Toward 
Stephen he was more tolerant, and he respected his 
genius, while he pitied his weaknesses. He would 
not listen, however, to a denunciation of Mr. 
Dunn’s hypocrisy, but stopped it with a peremp- 
tory word of warning. When he heard of Stephen’s 
desertion of the organ during the service he laid 
aside his pipe and spoke, his voice vibrating more, 
with wonder and pain than with anger. 

^^My son, there’s one side of your action which 
you seem unable to see, and it is by far the most 
important side. Granting that Mr. Dunn’s treat- 
ment of you was all that you represent, and I am 
by no means disposed to grant it, you seem un- 
conscious of the fact that you showed disrespect to 
God, rather than to His minister. I am shocked and 
surprised beyond measure that a son of mine 
should dare to bring his little enmities and his de- 
sire for revenge into the house of God. It’s passing 
strange that all my teaching in regard to the 
sacred privilege of taking part in the services 
should have made absolutely no impression on 
your mind. You have desecrated God’s Church, 
and I want you to go down on your knees to-night 
and pray that in His infinite mercy He may for- 
give you.” 

Stephen was seized by a fear that he should he 
obliged to kneel then and there with his father’s 


154 THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 

arm about bis shoulder and listen to a petition for 
his regeneration ; hut the Bishop contented himself 
with exacting a promise that he would make spe- 
cial mention of it in his usual evening prayers. 
He did not know that prayers were no longer usual 
with the boy. It did not occur to him that such 
a thing could be possible. 

They dined together at the, hotel. During 
the meal the Bishop’s thoughts were busy with the 
problem of his son’s future. At first he felt in- 
clined to take him back to Toledo, but when he 
mentioned it he was impressed with Stephen’s 
alarm at the proposition, with his confidence in 
himself, and particularly with his faith in the 
opera on which he was working. The Bishop knew 
all the difficulties that would attend the bringing 
out of the work, the patience and tact that must 
be used to win friends to its support, the financial 
risks. He had a disheartening conviction that 
Stephen lacked the business ability to carry the 
project through, and he knew that he was not, and 
apparently could not be, what is commonly called 
^^a good fellow.” Lacking this gift of good fellow- 
ship, which enlists men sometimes more than 
merit, there was still one other way, his own, the 
way of force. On the family seal appeared the 
motto ^^Aut suavitate aut vi/^ and as the Bishop 
grew older he gradually gave up the persuasion 
in favor of the force. His large blood-stone 


A DEUS EX MACHINA 


16 g 


seal was an epitome of his convictions. There 
appeared the emblems that meant so much to him, 
the miter, the crosier, the keys of Saint Peter, and 
the fish. A proud consciousness of all the tradi- 
tional authority behind him gave his naturally im- 
perious nature the final touch of power. But none 
of this could he imparted to his son ; he, could not 
even give him any of his own sustaining sense of 
personal dignity. Perhaps some one could he in- 
duced to take charge of the business side of the 
affair, he thought, and he ran over in his mind 
his list of available friends. 

Pirst of all, he must hear the opera as far as it 
was finished and form a judgment of its merits. 
When he had come to this decision they took the 
Broadway stage together and went up town. Ste- 
phen was delighted with his opportunity. He sat 
at the piano and played parts of his opera, ex- 
plaining the action and singing certain passages 
in his queer, falsetto voice, while his father read 
the libretto and nodded his approval. It was a 
beautiful conception, full of quaint, fairy-tale con- 
ceits, and set to music that stimulated the mind to 
dream of blowing winds and dancing nymphs. 

The old man was deeply touched and his heart 
swelled with paternal pride. He pointed out the 
mistakes in the verse of the libretto, hut, after all, 
he said, the words were of secondary importance. 
The music was so much finer and more elaborate 


156 


THE EiaHTIHG BISHOP 


than his own simple hymn tnnes that he conld 
see no fault in it. INTeither of them was experienced 
enough to discover the mistakes in construction. 
ISTeither understood the requirements and limita- 
tions of the stage. 

When the recital was finished the Bishop gave 
his son a great hug and then patted him on the 
hack, his face aglow with congratulation. He de- 
clared that he saw no reason why it should not he 
a grand success. In that moment of mutual under- 
standing and pride they came nearer to each other 
in spirit than they had ever been before. 

But their harmony was short-lived. The Bish- 
op’s glance fell upon a copy of the circular lying 
on the table. He read it through and his face 
clouded as he realized afresh the psychological 
puzzle his son presented. At the top of the bill a 
big black hand was represented grasping an octave 
on the keyboard, and below were these words : 


THE WIND HEMOH! ! ! 

Something new, startling, magical ! 

Come and hear Stephen Ambrose play his wonder- 
ful left-hand piece in Steinway Hall on Wednes- 
day night, and then go home and see if you can do 
it yourself ! Short talks between numbers on Child 
Education in Music ! The glaring faults of our 


A DEUS EX MACHIXA 157 

barbarous system exposed ! It will be worth your 
while to come. 

Mr. Ambrose is a son of Bishop Ambrose of the 
Diocese of Toledo, and is an organist of national 
reputation. He is a man of college training and 
knows whereof he speaks. He does not fight as 
one who beateth the air. His method is unique ! 
Hot a graduate of any ^^Conservatory.’’ He owes 
nothing to the Germans, but believes in ^^America 
for Americans.” 

Come and see for yourselves. 

COME OHE, COME ALL! 

The Bishop laid the paper down and regarded 
his son’s flushed face with curiosity and sadness. 
The vulgarity puzzled him. He might have ex- 
pected it in Tom, but in Stephen, the fastidious ! 
He was unable to see that it was only a nervous cry 
for recognition from one who was maddened by 
the world’s indifierence and stupidity. To Stephen 
it seemed a simple statement of facts. 

must confess that I don’t like this,” he said, 
gravely. ^^You must remember the old proverb. 
Good Wine needs no Bush. It seems to me that 
there was no need to antagonize the Germans. You 
can’t afford to do it. And the ^college training!’ 
This is all wrong; it won’t do.” 

Indignation took the place of wonder and grief, 
and he launched forth on a long tirade, in which 


158 


THE EIGHTIHa BISHOP 


there was mnch fatherly solicitude and good ad- 
vice. His habit of putting Stephen outside of the 
class of the responsible checked the emotion, 
which, in any other case, would have mastered 
him. Moreover, he remembered the music he had 
heard and hoped he might still be able, to teach 
the possessor of such gifts a wisdom that would 
insure the recognition they deserved. 

Stephen listened, unconvinced. He regarded 
preaching as his father’s business, and advice from 
that source was doomed beforehand to be in vain. 
There was one thing also to which they were both 
equally blind, the necessity of severe training for 
the symmetrical development of genius. The suc- 
cess of the. Bishop’s self -teaching made him lenient 
toward his son’s confidence in his musical scholar- 
ship. He supposed him better educated in the art 
than he really was. The burden of his advice, 
therefore, was, not to antagonize people unneces- 
sarily, and not to employ sensational methods. 

Later in the afternoon the Bishop went alone 
to see Mr. Dunn. He had made Stephen promise, 
to submit to church discipline, in case he could 
persuade the rector to restore his position. The 
alternative was an ignominious return to Toledo. 

Mr. Dunn was a busy man and kept regular 
office hours. He had just dismissed his last caller 
and settled back in his chair for a quiet cigar in 
the hope of a temporary forgetfulness of chari- 


A DEIJS EX MACIIIXA 


159 


table and spiritual worries, when Bishop Ambrose 
was announced. The rector offered his visitor 
a cigar and asked him about his trip. Then he 
gave a just and temperate account of his trouble 
with Stephen, and offered, unasked, to restore his 
position. 

^TVe had a temporary locum tenens’’ he ex- 
plained, ^Tn the hope of getting my good organist 
back. But I could scarcely make the first move in 
the matter.’’ 

The Bishop related his conversation with his 
son and the matter was soon settled. The rector 
was more conservative in regard to the opera, and 
advised further study and experience. He prom- 
ised to introduce Stephen to the men who could 
give him the best counsel on such an important 
venture. He was too diplomatic and too weary for 
a discussion of Stephen’s musical short-comings, 
especially as he divined the difiiculty of making 
his position in the matter clear. 

That night, at the boarding-house table, Stephen 
was triumphant. Bor once he was content to catch 
reflected glory. He took a sarcastic pleasure in 
witnessing his landlady’s tremulous politeness and 
the eagerness with which the others listened to his 
father’s remarks and endeavored to attract his at- 
tention. The Bishop was accustomed to such in- 
voluntary deference and was far from suspecting 
his son’s peculiar satisfaction when he set the 


160 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


student right on a question of history, and again, 
when he quoted Horace’s 

Fumum et opes strepitumque Romae 
in describing the appearance of London as seen 
from the dome of St. Paul’s. 

The next day they parted. The Bishop paid 
the board bill, and give his son fifty dollars with 
which to buy clothes. Then he left him to resume 
his dubious battle with the world alone. 


CHAPTER XV 


KEAPIiq^G THE WHIELWIND. 

Mrs. Ambrose drove alone to Toledo to meet her 
husband. She took the buggy and the faithful 
old horse that had carried them to church for so 
many years. Those Sunday morning drives had 
always been the happiest moments of her life, as 
she sat by his side in her black silk dress and 
cameTs hair shawl, her serene face framed in a 
round bonnet, her hands clasping the worn little 
Prayer Book which he had given her upon their 
wedding day. 

During the drive to church he had always out- 
lined his sermon to her, and on the way home 
she told him how much comfort and ghostly 
strength it had given her. 

Xow, after the long year of absence, she was to 
have him- all to herself again; but the prospect 
caused her more dread than joy as she thought 
over the story of wrong-doing she must tell him. 
This duty had always clouded the joy of his home- 
comings in the past. The incidents attending his 
return from a diocesan visit had always been so 
similar as to become almost routine in character. 

161 


162 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


At first lie kissed tkem all, and then he heard the 
particular task he had assigned to each at his de- 
parture; to one, a piece of music to learn; to an- 
other, an essay to write, or a long series of prob- 
lems in mathematics. After that, he took his wife 
to their room and learned from her all the sins of 
omission and commission that had occurred in his 
absence. These she told him only at his command, 
and from a sense of duty, always with tears and 
many pleas for the pardon of the offenders. 
Finally, in the evening, the sound of blows would 
he heard in the study and the thunders of the 
Bishop’s voice. 

The sons were all sturdy fellows, with the ex- 
ception of Stephen, and stood the floggings well 
enough. It was the subsequent praying that proved 
to he the more formidable ordeal. It is, therefore, 
no wonder that they always saw him depart with 
a sense of freedom, and dreaded the return which 
they must welcome with mock demonstrations of 
joy. Hot until they were grown men, and not 
always then, did respect for their father’s charac- 
ter and aims develop into the love that casts out 
fear. 

As Mrs. Ambrose drove now to meet her hus- 
band she recalled many a stormy scene in the 
past and all her ceaseless efforts to keep her sons’ 
hearts unhardened toward their father. It was 
her custom to come to them after their punishment 


REAPII^’a THE WHIELWIHD 


1G3 


like a ministering angel, with tears of sympathy 
and the old, old story that it was all for their good 
and had been done with loving intent. Ensebins 
and Basil had outgrown all resentment, hut her ef- 
forts with the others had not been so successful. 
In her weariness she longed for the time when the 
days of flogging should he over and when she 
should he safe in that house of many mansions, 
where all tears shall he wiped away from the eyes. 

As the miles slipped smoothly away and the 
time drew near when she must tell him the thing 
she had not dared to write, the part of her nature 
that feared became, as it were, atrophied, and she 
grew strangely calm. Her wearied soul refused 
longer to be stirred by a vision of his anger. She 
had gone through so many scenes; what did one 
more matter? For months she had been haunted 
by this phantom terror, hut now as it approached 
it vanished and left her indifferent. 

Had she not suffered more than he could know ? 
She had endured the subtle signs of malignant joy 
in the enemies of her husband and the sympathy 
of her friends when no sympathy could help. Dur- 
ing the year, also, the indignation aroused by the 
Bishop’s book in defense of slavery had made her 
position still more trying. It was even made the 
subject of denunciation in the pulpits of sectarian 
churches, and the ^^Toledo Blade” had printed 
more than one editorial, in which the Bishop was 


164 THE FIGHTING BISHOP 

rated in no measured terms. From time to time 
little paragraphs appeared, containing some cut- 
ting remark about bis attitude on tbis and other 
subjects. It was an impressive proof of the 
Bishop’s austerity that the actual good be bad done 
the growing town in its early days should be for- 
gotten in tbis new antagonism. Old charges and 
causes of irritation were raked up. Outside of bis 
own parishioners it became the fashion to speak 
of him as an Englishman who wished to introduce 
a State Church into a free country and who was 
intolerant of the religious opinions of others. At- 
tention was called to the fact that he did not believe 
in public schools, hut educated his sons by them- 
selves as if they were too good for the rest of the 
community. 

Even the subject on which Mrs. Ambrose was 
now brooding had been obscurely mentioned in the 
papers. There were hints of a domestic scandal 
that was too well known to need explicit state- 
ment. It was said that the Bishop would do well 
to come hack and direct his zeal for reform toward 
the members of his own household. 

In former days the Bishop’s wife had experi- 
enced the exaltation that comes from being in the 
minority on the side of righteousness, hut during 
the past year she had felt that consolation slipping 
from her. Eor the first time in her life she could 
not feel sure that the Bishop was always right. 


EEAPIiq^a THE WHIELWIND 


165 


Wlien she read ^^Uncle Tom^s Cabin” she ceased 
to view the subject of slavery through his eyes. 
The book was a revelation to her. As she balanced 
that story of suffering and wrong against the cold 
arguments of his hook her woman’s heart cried out 
upon his man’s reason. She knew that all hut 
Eusebius were on her side. Even Cecily and Cyp- 
rian were daily acting out the story of Eliza’s es- 
cape across the frozen river, using the old 
shepherd dog to represent the bloodhounds. 
Dreadful tales of the sufferings of escap- 
ing slaves came to her ears and wrung her heart 
with pity; and once Basil concealed a negro in 
the woods by the bay with her approval. She had 
fed the fugitive until he made his escape into 
Canada by a lake boat. The fact that she did not 
mention this incident in her letters to her husband 
showed her how sure she was that he would have 
disapproved of her action. She, shuddered as she 
admitted that his sense of duty would have im- 
pelled him to give the scarred and trembling 
wretch back to his lawful master. 

The dissensions in the Senate and the efforts at 
compromise were now the daily theme of conversa- 
tion at the table. In their father’s absence his sons 
had learned to speak with unwonted freedom, and 
Mrs. Ambrose took part without the fear of her 
husband’s displeasure at her lack of reason. She 
would hardly confess what she sometimes felt, that 


166 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


she received from her boys a chivalrous attention 
which the Bishop had long ceased to accord her. 
He had grown to accept her service and admira- 
tion as a matter of course. Sometimes she won- 
dered whether any other strong woman might not 
have suited him as well, provided she bore him 
children and fitted helpfully into his scheme of 
life. 

As she entered the town her calmness deserted 
her. A chaos of confiicting emotions took posses- 
sion of her at the thought that she would see him 
again so soon. Would the unquestioning love re- 
vive when they met, and was her doubt an evil 
dream ? 

The old habit of mind reasserted itself at the 
crucial moment. When he stepped from the train 
she forgot everything else for the time except the 
fact of his safe return. His own joy at the re- 
union smote her heart with compunction. How 
she had wronged him! She knew now that she 
could trust his love and sympathy in the trial they 
must share together. As she turned her happy 
and wistful gaze upon him he seemed to her 
younger and more vigorous than before his depar- 
ture. 

In fact, his year abroad had done the Bishop 
good. He had preached in the principal cathe- 
drals of England and had attracted much attention 
by his eloquence and personality. My Lord Bishop 


REAPIU’G THE WIIIBLWIHB 


167 


This and my Lord Bishop That had been proud 
to acknowledge him as a peer. The favor with 
which he was received was the more flattering since 
his visit occurred at a time when the feeling to- 
ward America was far from cordial. Best of all, 
he had raised the money necessary to start his 
Divinity School, l^othing seemed lacking to his 
happiness. All his old struggles and disappoint- 
ments were forgotten in the final fruition of his 
hopes. 

^^Why did you come alone, Martha he asked 
as they drove away. ^^Where are, the boys 

wanted you all to myself, at first,” she an- 
swered. want to tell you about things at home.” 

^^Yes, yes, of course,” he assented. ‘‘1 received 
your last letter, sent in care of Stephen, and was 
glad I could thank God that all my dear ones were 
well. He has indeed blessed me beyond my de- 
serts.” 

He was in no hurry to hear of the little sins of 
the household, now that he was sure there was no 
sickness. This was not like a return from one 
of his short absences and a slight wonder fiitted 
through his mind that she should be more anxious 
to discuss home affairs than to hear the news he 
had to tell. Her attitude seemed due to a mis- 
taken sense of duty, and he hastened to set her 
mind at ease concerning the task she had always 
found so trying. How short her perspective was ! 


168 


THE EIGHTING BISHOP 


^^That^s all right,” he said, patting her hand 
affectionately. We’ll speak of those things later. 
Let ns look only at the pleasant side to-day.” 

She knew she must disregard his request before 
they reached home, but the drive was long and 
she was glad of a temporary respite. She, asked 
about Stephen, for she knew from his letter of the 
trouble with his rector. 

^^Is he as thin as ever ?” she inquired anxiously, 
after he had told her of his visit to Mr. Dunn, and 
of Stephen’s opera. ^^Is he well cared for ? Has 
he any one to mend his clothes ?” 

^^He always was one of Pharaoh’s lean kine,” 
said the Bishop heartily. don’t know about his 
clothes. That’s a small point and doubtless his 
landlady looks after him. He seemed a little care- 
less in his dress, now that I come to think of it, 
but I hope he’ll take more pains in future. He 
sees now where he made his mistakes and will be 
wiser.” 

He had already informed his family by letters 
of the success that had attended his efforts to raise 
funds for the School, but there were other pleasant 
and interesting events of which he wished to tell 
her. Sure of her sympathy and loving pride he 
recounted the many tokens of respect he had re- 
ceived. To her he disclosed his egotism unthink- 
ingly. He had been her hero for so many years 
that the possibility of a critical attitude on her 


EEAPIiq^a THE WHIEEWIHD 


169 


part never occurred to him. With her he thought 
aloud, and if he showed her his highest ideals 
and hopes, it was also true that sometimes he dis- 
closed what a less loving listener might have called 
a streak of vain-glory. 

As they passed down Summit Street he paused 
in his anecdotes to remark upon the smallness of 
the city. It seemed to have shrunk in his eyes, 
accustomed as they were to the magnificent propor- 
tions of London. 

His appearance after such a long absence cre- 
ated quite a sensation in the street. There was 
almost no one to whom his face and figure were 
unfamiliar, and, like many public men, he had a 
habit of bowing to all who looked at him, whether 
he knew them or not. He felt that every one knew 
him and expected a nod of recognition. Absorbed 
now in his talk, he scarcely noticed that, with the 
exception of several of his parishioners, there was 
no sign of cordiality. He encountered rather a 
cold stare of interest not untouched by hostility. 
People paused as he drove by and pointed him out, 
calling him the ^^Southerner’’ or the ^^English- 
man,’’ as his attitude on the slavery question 
or his English ideas and his long visit abroad ap- 
pealed more to their individual prejudices. 

It was not until they had left the city and 
turned into the river road that the Bishop began 
to feel something lacking and then it dawned on 


170 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


him that his wife had been silent for the last half 
mile. He looked at her sharply and saw that her 
face was pale and her lips moving. 

^^Martha !’’ he cried in sudden alarm, ^^you* are 
keeping something from me. Tell me what it is at 
once. What has happened?” 

^^My poor Patrick!” she exclaimed, weeping. 
^^How can I ever tell you!” Then she poured 
forth a flood of broken words and phrases, hud- 
dled and indeflnite, from which his bewildered 
mind gathered only the fact that a calamity, 
coupled with disgrace, had befallen the family in 
his absence. After all, fear of him had mastered 
her again. Por the time being she was once more 
the reed on which he could play whatever tune 
he wished. Still she talked and still the truth 
did not come out. He only heard the words 
^^Anna” and ^Tom” and felt in his wife’s inco- 
herent words the anguished cry of her outraged 
soul. 

With a strong, nervous jerk of the lines he 
brought the horse to a standstill. 

^^Tell me,” he cried, ^^and without any more 
digression, what has happened.” 

^^Anna is a mother,” she answered desperately. 

He drew a deep breath and whipped up the 
horse without a word. For a time he asked no 
more questions and she made no explanations. 
She sank back in the seat profoundly glad that it 


EEAPING THE WHIRLWIND 


171 


was over. She felt that the burden she had borne 
so long was now, in a manner, transferred to his 
shoulders, and her first sensation was that of re- 
lief. 

Slowly the Bishop^s mind began to pierce be- 
yond the bare fact to its inevitable and far-reach- 
ing consequences. He saw that this sin had given 
cause to his enemies to rejoice greatly against 
him. His figure stiffened as he resolved to meet 
covert sneer and smile by a resistless answering 
contempt. He would do what he could to right 
the wrong and then turn an imperturbable face to 
the world. 

The time had come in the history of these two 
old people when a great sorrow was to stand be- 
tween them, as the flaming sword of the angel sev- 
ered the world^s first parents from the scene of 
their early happiness. 

^^Are they married? Didn’t Eusebius marry 
them?” he suddenly asked. 

She shook her head. ^^Tom wouldn’t — ” she be- 
gan. 

^^He shall!” cried the Bishop, his face paling. 
Then he turned upon her. Strange he had not 
thought of it before ! ^ Why didn’t you write to 

me about it?” he demanded, his voice rising and 
his eyes beginning to gather the intense light of 
one of his great rages. 


172 THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 

She met his look with a face equally white, but 
dauntless at last. 

you canH guess I can’t tell you/’ she said 
in a strained voice. have suffered enough.” 

Instinctively he knew he, could not touch her 
now. They were entering the gate at the moment. 
His anger was deflected from her as from the face 
of a rock and fell upon the only other living thing 
near him. He brought the whip down on the 
horse’s back, causing the poor beast to rear and 
snort and then plunge blindly forward. The blow 
terrifled him, accustomed for a year only to a 
gentle cluck of encouragement and an occasional 
flop of the lines. He broke into a gallop that lasted 
until they reached the door. 

From the house and the fields the family came 
running to meet him as the buggy swung round the 
curve of the driveway. In a moment they knew 
that he knew and shrank back aghast as he sprang 
to the ground. Tom alone faced him. 

^^Yes, I did it!” he shouted. did it, and I’ll 
pay for it I Kill me if you want to I” 

His father stood before him, panting, and his 
hand fell to his side. The mad desire to strike 
gave way to an indomitable resolve. 

^^Where is Anna?” he gasped. ^Hring her to 
me.” 

He took Tom by the arm and marched him into 
the study as if he were a child. 


EEAPINa THE WHIRLWIND 


173 


^^Bring her to me/’ he repeated, turning to Euse- 
bius, ^^and bring me mj Prayer Book.” 

When Anna appeared her look was half -suppli- 
cating, half assertive. In an instant she divined 
the part she ought to play. She was with the 
Bishop and against the betrayer who had not done 
his duty by her. Her uplifted face strove to ex- 
press meekness, long-suffering without bitterness, 
and repentance. Mrs. Ambrose had kept her al- 
most a prisoner, but now she took her place once 
more by her lover’s side. 

won’t do it!” Tom cried, in a sudden burst 
of resistance. ^‘1 won’t do it! I’m not the only 
one !” 

His father looked at him. There was a light 
of determination in his eyes that meant certain 
victory. All the boy’s bravado went down before 
that look which combined the authority of the 
father, the wrath of a good man outraged, and the 
power of a bishop of the Church. 

^^You shall !” he declared. ^^All the more rea- 
son you should make an honest woman of her and 
protect her from the world.” 

A habit of tyranny, a fear of further revela- 
tions, inspired these words, in which he plainly 
showed that he would make this son a scapegoat in 
punishment for his sins. He did not care to find 
out if others were implicated. Was Tom’s reluc- 
tance the only reason why Eusebius had not mar- 


174 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


ried them? What if his favorite son also were 
guilty ? Was his career to be ruined ? If he too 
had sinned he was still, like David of old, a man 
of God, and would serve a life-long, self-imposed 
penance. 

He turned to Anna. ^^Only swear that you sin- 
cerely repent,’’ he said. His face softened for the 
first time as he saw her shrinking before him, and 
he thought of the words : ^^i^either do I condemn 
thee.” 

^‘1 do ! I do !” she cried. ^^Tom is wrong; there 
is no one else.” 

He was glad to believe her. The terrible doubt 
was dismissed at her words. ^^That is sufficient,” 
he said, and turning to the marriage service he 
began to read the opening declaration. When he 
reached the part of the ceremony that required a 
ring he turned to his wife and held out his hand. 
Without a word she slipped off the gold band, now 
worn almost to a thread, and Tom put it on the 
finger of his bride. Eusebius wondered as he 
looked at Anna’s calm and recordless face, and 
thought again of the wife of the painter who had 
posed for the Madonna. 

Thus Anna played her game and won. She had 
found Eusebius and Basil beyond her reach and as 
a last resort, had ensnared the fancy of the foolish 
boy, seven years her junior, through whom she 
could claim a better position in the Bishop’s house 


VREAPINa THE WHIELWIHD 


175 


than that of a dependent relative. She hngged the 
thought to her heart also that she was avenged at 
last upon her tyrant. 

During the Bishop^s absence there had been no 
discipline to take the place of his absolute sway. 
By what imperceptible degrees Anna and Tom 
had come together they alone knew. They met, ap- 
parently by accident, in lonely places; each was 
drawn by curiosity and a love of adventure. The 
assumption of sisterly and brotherly privileges 
broke down the first conventional safeguards. It 
was an easy step to plan little expeditions together 
in search of lilies on the marsh or wild fiowers in 
the woods. 

One night in early summer they slipped away 
to attend a dance at French Camp, a settlement 
of French Canadians on the bay shore. Under 
the intoxication of the music and the wine Tom^s 
repentance and good resolutions melted away. 
Once more the fever that had first driven him 
from home ran riot in his veins. He felt lordly 
among the simple rustics he had honored with his 
presence, like a prince attending a merry-making 
in disguise. Anna seemed to him the queen of the 
dance. Her easy movements and her graceful con- 
descension toward her heavy partners impressed^ 
him as worthy of a woman who had seen much of 
the fashionable world. The excitement of the 
frolic gave an unwonted color to her cheeks and 


176 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


Tom no longer thouglit of her as his sister or re- 
membered the years between them. She was his 
sweetheart, the sharer of delicious secrets, and his 
companion in adventure. The lights shone double 
and the floor was billowy to his tread as he danced 
with her the final reel. 

After that night it remained for them to face 
the future together. A clandestine marriage would 
have pleased Anna ; but when she had once yielded 
to his wild logic and to the witchery of the night 
she found that he was determined to remain only 
her lover. It was the Bishop himself who inter- 
posed to win the game for her against himself. 

On the night of their marriage Tom confided to 
his wife, in tears, his determination to be a good 
husband and to make a man of himself. Anna 
found it possible to encourage this resolution with 
a sincerity for once unfeigned. 


CHAPTEE XVI 


WHEN’ GREEK MEETS GREEK 

In the following October Basil voted for Wil- 
liam Dennison, the Eepnblican candidate for gov- 
ernor. His father voted the Democratic ticket, 
and the bitterness he felt at the, Eepnblican victory 
was intensified by the fact that one of his sons 
had helped to win it. 

Eusehins had never felt his civic responsibilities 
seriously enough to take, the trouble to go to the 
polls. Less worldly than his father, the only gov- 
ernment in which he was vitally interested was 
that of the Church. Like the majority of the men 
of the Xorth he failed to read the signs of the 
times aright and did not realize that the questions 
he now relegated to the background would soon 
come knocking imperiously at the door of his con- 
science for an answer. All his life, he had been 
familiar with the question of slavery and he be- 
lieved that somehow it would settle itself in time. 
He lived in the idea of a Church that dated from 
the time of the apostles and had seen empires rise 
and fall while it continued its divine existence. 
The question of State Eights versus A Strong 
177 


178 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


Union seemed to him to belong to the transitory 
interests of this world; it could not appeal to his 
imagination nor stir more than the surface of his 
passions. And so it was that in all the hymns 
of the hymn-hook this was his favorite quatrain: 

^Urowns and thrones may perish, 
Kingdoms rise and wane, 

But the Church of Jesus 
Constant will remain.’^ 

Possessed by the idea of a Heavenly Kingdom, 
he had acquired an attitude of indifference toward 
the political affairs of men that contrasted strongly 
with his father’s fervid partisanship. He would 
have been glad to spend his days in a round of de- 
votional duties similar to that imposed upon the 
monks of the Middle Ages. As it was, he fitted as 
best he could into his times. 

He was a man of diversified gifts and all of 
them were consecrated to the Church. The offi- 
cial seal of the diocese was his own design and a 
beautiful example of his ecclesiastical learning. 
He was the unpaid architect of a number of 
churches, and his carols and hymns were begin- 
ning to be sung in many places. He could turn 
out a copy of Latin verses that would have done 
credit to an Oxonian. His skill in miniature paint- 
ing would have justified him in making it his pro- 
fession, had he no other interests, and the family 


WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK 


179 


record in the large Bible, done by his hand, was a 
rare specimen of illuminating and penmanship in 
Old English lettering. 

On the very day of the election he was dream- 
ing away the autumn afternoon in his room, writ- 
ing a hymn upon the 'New Jerusalem, and though 
he cared nothing for earthly gold he dwelt in lov- 
ing imagination upon the golden streets of that 
celestial city. 

The bill of grievances which the Bishop had 
been slowly filling out against Basil was made 
complete by his vote for Dennison. It was now 
understood in the family that Basil and Imogen 
were engaged. The Bishop would have rejoiced in 
the prospect of this union if his son had converted 
his intended wife to the Church. Basil’s indif- 
ference upon a question which was of such vital 
importance to both his parents brought them a dis- 
tress as keen as that of Isaac and Kebekah when 
Esau took to wife the daughter of Beeri the Hit- 
tite. 

The question of Basil’s wife seemed bound up 
in the question of his entering the ministry. As 
the Bishop realized that another disappointment 
was in store for him he regarded the wilful love 
of his son for the daughter of an unbeliever as 
the cause. To him that sweet and gentle girl ap- 
peared like an abhorred Canaanitish woman who 
had estranged Basil from the God of Israel and 


180 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


caused him to bow himself in the temple of her 
father’s heathen divinities. 

Although father and son sometimes engaged in 
arguments concerning politics, a thorough discus- 
sion of the religious question had not yet occurred. 
Basil realized the hopelessness of trying to make 
his father see his own point of view, and the 
Bishop himself hesitated to precipitate a discus- 
sion that might verify his worst fears. Since his 
last terrible scene with Tom and Anna he had 
undergone a subtle change. The repeated shocks 
of conflict seemed to have aroused an instinct of 
self-preservation. He no longer took the trouble 
to notice the little shortcomings of the younger 
children, faults for which the older sons had been 
severely punished. His outbreaks were now more 
rare and were usually directed against public men 
and measures. Tom, whose power to irritate him 
had always been the greatest, was now living with 
his wife in a house the Bishop had built for them 
at the far end of the farm. As he had no skill in 
books it was decided that he should be his father’s 
overseer. Farming was the one thing he under- 
stood. He had hated it as a boy, but now he took 
up his duties in the spirit of a man who must pro- 
vide for his family. He had risen from his second 
great fall and was making a brave effort to walk 
upright among men. 

Since the election Basil’s vote had smouldered 


WHEIT GREEK MEETS GREEK 


181 


in liis father’s mind almost as a personal grievance. 
It needed but a spark to cause the explosion, and 
shortly after the election the fire fell. 

It was the seventeenth of October. The Bishop 
had been in tovm all day and was expected back 
to tea. At six o’clock the family sat down at the 
table as usual, little dreaming that anything more 
serious than a pressure of duties had detained him. 
The evening was mild for October and the win- 
dows of the room were open to catch the last light 
of the setting sun. There was little conversation. 
Above the clatter of dishes could he heard the in- 
cessant droning of locusts from the branches of 
the aspen trees. The beauty of the evening 
seemed to rest like a spell upon them as the shad- 
ows lengthened across the mown fields. 

Suddenly, in a pause of the desultory talk, they 
heard the sound of the buggy driven furiously 
into the yard and the Bishop’s voice calling loudly 
to Jake as he stopped before the door. There was 
something unusual in the horse’s speed and in the 
tone of the Bishop’s voice. A thrill of foreboding 
caused them to sit up straight in their chairs, silent 
and expectant. As they heard his rapid tread in 
the hall the intuition of disaster became an op- 
pressive certainty. 

When he entered the room they saw, even in the 
dimness, that his face was pale with excitement. 

Mrs. Ambrose rose to greet him. 


182 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


dear !” slie exclaimed. ^^Wliat has hap- 
pened 

He kissed her mechanically and, taking his seat 
at the table, he flung a copy of the ^Hlade’’ beside 
his plate. 

^Hring me a light, Katy!’’ he cried. ^^Every- 
thing has happened. Jnst what yon might expect 
after the defeat of the forces of law and order at 
the polls. War — that’s what weVe got on our 
hands now. An army of Hlack Kepuhlicans,’ led 
by that Kansas murderer, has invaded Virginia 
and seized the arsenal at Harper’s Kerry!” 

He took the lamp from Katy’s trembling Angers 
and looked around at the circle of pale and ex- 
cited faces. Then he motioned for silence and 
read the telegraphic reports of the raid that in 
the flrst flash of panic and ignorance was mis- 
taken all over the country for the serious attempt 
of an invading army. To the Bishop it seemed a 
vindication of his attitude and there was an un- 
mistakable note of mournful triumph in his voice. 

^Tt is the beginning of a servile war,” he de- 
clared, as he laid the paper down. ^^We may ex- 
pect nothing less than a repetition of the bloody 
scenes in Italy during the revolt of the gladiators. 
Doubtless, this John Brown hopes to go down to 
posterity as a second Spartacus ! We cannot tell 
as yet how many slaves have been armed, but 
probably the work of supplying them with weap- 


WnEK GKEEX MEETS GEEEK 


183 


ons has been going on for some time and we shall 
hear of masters murdered in their beds by their 
servants, led by that cut-throat lunatic P’ He 
turned to Basil. told you, sir,” he thundered, 
as his emotion carried him on its rising tide, ‘‘1 
told you what the result would be ! How you see 
for yourself what comes of subverting the lawful 
authority of masters over their servants, an au- 
thority sanctioned by God himself without which 
the whole fabric of human society would crumble 
into chaos. God himself put His curse upon these 
children of Ham. Does He not create some, vessels 
to honor and others to dishonor, and is it for 
us to question the wisdom of His decrees ? I told 
you J efferson Davis was right. Heither here, nor 
in Liberia have these negroes shown any capacity 
for self-government, and the very existence of 
society demands that they be kept in their normal 
condition of servitude. There may be abuses con- 
nected with the system, individual examples of 
cruelty and lust, but the cure for these is Chris- 
tianity, simple Christianity. If masters and ser- 
vants were taught only the first principles of Chris- 
tianity this whole trouble would vanish like smoke. 
The master would be kind and the servant would 
know his place, as the servants of Abraham knew 
theirs. This rebellion follows logically on the 
contempt for the authority of the Church which 
has shown itself in these days in the multiplica- 


184 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


tion of religions. It goes hand in hand with Mor- 
monism and Shakerism and free love communities 
and other sects less disgusting hut equally dis- 
obedient that have taken some fragment of God’s 
word and exalted it into a creed.” He paused, 
breathless, overcome by his emotion. Then he 
went on with impressive solemnity. 

These may be the signs spoken of in Revela- 
tion. For aught we know these may be those evil 
days and this event the beginning of the end, when 
the cup of our iniquity is full to overflowing and 
the earth shall be rolled up like a scroll!” 

In the silence .that followed these words they 
sat looking at one another with scared faces. The 
Bishop’s voice seemed that of a prophet pronounc- 
ing the doom of a disobedient people. For a few 
minutes nothing was heard but the monotonous 
song of the locusts in the deepening night. Then 
Basil spoke. He began with hesitation, both be- 
cause he dreaded to oppose his father at such a 
crisis, and also because for the moment he almost 
wavered in his faith. It was not easy to resist 
that tone of authority, that physical force and per- 
sonal magnetism which had carried the Bishop tri- 
umphantly through many a conflict. In another 
respect also the discussion was unequal, for Basil 
was slow of speech, whereas his father’s language 
followed close upon his thought with a readiness 
born of long practice. 


WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK 


185 


may be as you say in regard to Brown’s law- 
lessness/’ be began, ^^but it seems to me that there 
is a certain righteous indignation behind the act. 
He seems to have the impatience of the fanatic and 
to be unable to wait for the slow course of the law. 
I believe he is in the first wave, so to speak, of a 
rising tide of righteous indignation — ” 

^^Kighteous !” the Bishop shouted. ^^Kighteous !” 
He pushed back his chair and rose, to his feet. 

^^Yes, righteous!” Basil fiung back, rising and 
confronting his father undaunted. believe that 
times have changed and that what was good in 
Abraham’s time is no longer good in this free re- 
public. I believe, that the blood of murdered slaves 
calls to God from the ground for vengeance. I 
believe that we have embodied in our Constitution 
a true statement that ^all men are created free and 
equal,’ but that we have been afraid to apply this 
truth to the black race we have wickedly enslaved. 
I have seen them. I hid one of them myself in 
the woods and helped him to escape from his mas- 
ter. I saw the scars on his back and the marks 
made by red-hot irons on the soles of his feet. 
I saw him on his knees, weeping and praying to 
be saved from a fate worse than death. I helped 
him to escape, and I’m proud of it !” 

The Bishop was staggered for a moment, but he 
returned to the attack with even greater fury. It 
was fortunate that Eusebius was between them. 


186 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


He laid his hand firmly on his father’s arm and 
begged him to stop. 

^Tet us sit down and talk it over quietly/’ he 
entreated. ^^Surely you can agree to disagree.” 

^^Hot on such a subject ! To think that a son of 
mine should dare to stand up before my face and 
confess that he had aided and abetted those an- 
archists, those cut-throats, those — ” 

^^Ho, no,” Eusebius protested. ^^You don’t un- 
derstand each other.” 

Mrs. Ambrose, Katy, and Cyprian were crying. 
Cecily was fairly dancing with excitement, and 
Gus drew nearer his brother as if to share with 
him the battle. By a common impulse Basil and 
his father sat down. Eusebius followed up his ad- 
vantage by trying to direct the conversation to 
the external aspects of the event, but the great 
principle behind it was too imminent to be ignored. 
The Bishop could not resist a repetition of his own 
point of view and broke out again and again, as 
lesser shocks follow a great earthquake. He talked 
at Basil through Eusebius. 

The offender, meanwhile, maintained an abso- 
lute silence. He had satisfied his conscience by a 
declaration of his principles and actions and he 
had no desire to gain a victory in argument, even 
if it were possible, over his father whom he loved. 
The others had already finished their supper but 
the Bishop was unable to eat. Einally he pushed 


WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK 187 


back his chair a second time and started to leave 
the room. He rose with the intention of shutting 
himself up to wrestle with his grief and anger, but 
at the door he turned. 

^^Basil/^ he said, should like to see you alone 
in my study.” 

How freighted with associations of fear that 
simple declaration was! Even the manner in 
which the words were spoken recalled many a reck- 
oning in the past. Basil was too old now to have 
to expect corporal punishment, but a reminiscence 
of the old dread stirred in his heart. This time 
he felt that he was to do battle for his love, and his 
courage returned. 

^^All right, sir,” he answered promptly, “1^11 
come in a few minutes.” 

When the door closed his mother put her arms 
about him protectingly. 

^^My dear boy,” she entreated, ^^don’t say any- 
thing more to anger your father. His nerves are 
not what they used to be and this dreadful battle 
has upset him terribly.” She hesitated, and low- 
ered her voice to a whisper. ^^And, Basil dear, 
you do believe in God and the Church, don’t you ?” 

^^Yes, little mother,” he answered, smiling down 
upon her reassuringly. ^^Because I may not enter 
the ministry you mustn’t think I don’t believe in 
God and the Church. You mustn’t do Imogen and 


188 THE FIGHTING BISHOP 

her father an injustice, either. I should probably 
have come to the. same conclusions, anyhow.” 

^^I’m so glad,” she murmured, brightening. 
knew she wouldn’t try to make my hoy an infidel. 
!N^ow go, dear, and remember what mother told 
you.” 

When he entered the study he found the Bishop 
seated at his desk, and he felt it to he a good sign 
that he was filling his pipe. The lamplight dis- 
closed the lines of weariness and excitement and 
Basil was touched by a sudden realization of the 
fact that his father had become an old man. 

The conversation that followed was long and 
earnest, hut Mrs. Ambrose’s fear of another out- 
break was not fulfilled. The Bishop became con- 
vinced that Mr. Brierly and his daughter had 
much less to do with his son’s attitude than he 
had supposed. With infinite relief he heard the 
hoy say that he still considered himself a Chris- 
tian, though his inability to accept all the doc- 
trines of the Church made it impossible for him to 
think of entering the ministry. At this point of 
the conversation the Bishop took his Prayer Book 
and turned to the thirty-nine ^^Articles of Re- 
ligion.” He gave his unqualified assent to every 
one of them and began to argue in their defense. 
Ho was a skilled logician and none of his son’s 
counter arguments was unfamiliar to him or un- 


WHEN GEEEH MEETS GREEK 189 


expected. He had answered them all in his vari- 
ous hooks and pamphlets. 

Perhaps Basil’s defiance in the dining-room had 
won him a respect not previously given. He was 
conscious, at all events, of being admitted to a 
new intellectual companionship with his father. 
For the first time the Bishop did not seem to wish 
to put him down by sheer force. In spite of him- 
self he was moved to admiration of his father’s 
resourcefulness and power of exposition. He was 
convinced also of his absolute sincerity, though he 
could not accept his point of view. In particular, 
the various analogies by which the Bishop tried to 
illustrate the paradox of the Trinity, the Three in 
One, were to Basil unconvincing. Each felt that 
the other’s mind was impervious to arguments and 
they exhausted, without convincing, each other. 
At midnight they desisted from sheer weariness, 
and were glad when Eusebius entered the room. 

^^There’s a lunch for you on the dining-room 
table,” he remarked genially. ^The fires must be 
kep’ up,’ as the stoker said.” 

They found the first fire of the year burning on 
the bricks. The light of three tall candles fell 
upon the fair while cloth and shining dishes. 
There were a large bowl of milk, a plate of bread, 
and slices of cold ham. Eusebius poured out two 
glasses of wine. 


190 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


little for onr stomachs’ sake,” he explained. 
^^Basil shall have a drink more suited to his tender 
years.” 

^^Eusehius,” his father said, smiling, ^^your love 
of good living would do credit to a holy friar.” 


CHAPTEE XVII 


THE LAY POPE 

One morning in tlie following April Mr. Cor- 
nelius Van Dam, the banker, drove up to the 
Bishop’s door with his fine span of pacers. It was 
now nearly a year since the Bishop’s return from 
England with the money necessary to start his 
school, and as yet the first stone of the foundation 
had not been laid. The delay was partly due to 
the fact that Eusebius was slow in perfecting his 
architectural plans; but even after they were fin- 
ished the acute mind of the banker discovered 
other reasons for postponement. Then the win- 
ter came and it seemed best to wait for spring. 

Mr. Van Dam was the junior warden of the 
Church. His father had been senior warden for 
many years and the Bishop’s best friend in the 
early days. It was he who persuaded Mr. Am- 
brose to give up the law for the ministry and the 
Bishop cherished his memory with grateful af- 
fection. The, son had used the moderate fortune 
that came into his hands to start a bank, and 
though he had been in the business but ten years 
he was reputed the richest man in Toledo. He 

191 


192 


THE EIGIITIHG BISHOP 


was the colonel of the local militia and carried 
himself like a soldier, especially on annual parade 
days and Fourth of July celebrations. His wife 
was from one of the best families of Schenectady 
and her advent some five years before had been 
the beginning of a new social standard in the little 
city of fourteen thousand people, and the cause of 
much envy and emulation. 

How, at the age of thirty-three, Mr. Van Dam 
was a power in the community. He was proud 
of his position in the realms of finance and society 
and religion. He was the Bishop’s most liberal 
supporter and also his most trusted adviser. This 
relationship was an inheritance. Mr. Ambrose, 
when a young clergyman, had taken the son of his 
friend in his arms and baptized him, and the boy 
was a member of the first class he confirmed after 
he became Bishop. He was educated with Bernard 
and Eusebius in the family school and prepared 
with them for college. After that their ways 
parted. He went to Union College, which in ante- 
bellum days was an institution of great impor- 
tance, under the able guidance of Dr. Eliphalet 
Hott. On his return he began to show that he had 
inherited the business ability which had in the 
early days made the name of Van Dam a synonym 
of success. At first his attitude toward his father’s 
old friend was almost filial, but as the love of 
power and money hardened his heart the two f ami- 


THE LAY POPE 


193 


lies saw less of eacH other in the old, informal 
way. Toward the Bishop he continned to he re- 
spectful, but he gradually gained more power over 
him until he bid fair to become what churchmen 
call a ^^lay pope,’’ that is, a rich layman who pre- 
sumes upon his wealth and importance to try to 
control the policy of the diocese. 

Though the Bishop was slow to realize his grow- 
ing dependence upon the banker, Eusebius was 
more keen. As his father’s assistant he often came 
in contact with his former schoolfellow. They 
were, now far apart in ideals and affections, but 
they had never quite outgrown their old freedom 
of speech with each other. The young priest often 
told the banker frankly that the love of money 
was hardening his heart and he, in turn, was criti- 
cized for his other worldliness and lack of conven- 
tional wisdom. In Eusebius the banker saw a pos- 
sible check to his growing power and the suspicion 
filled him with irritation. In appearance also the 
two young men were a strong contrast. Van Dam’s 
face was clean-shaven, so that at a little distance 
he looked like a youth of twenty. As he came 
nearer the wrinkles of sleeplessness and dissimula- 
tion about his cold blue eyes could be more clearly 
discerned until, when close by, he appeared ten 
years older than he really was. Eusebius was 
wont to say that he aged twenty years in as many 
steps. 


194 


THE EIGHTING BISHOP 


The two met at the door. Tor a few minutes 
they talked on subjects connected with the Church. 
Something was said in regard to the proprieties to 
he observed in the service and Van Dam suddenly 
remarked : 

^^By the way, Eusebius, I should think you’d 
shave off that heard of yours. Goats have beards.” 

^Tt is also true,” the other replied, ^That pup- 
pies have none. You will find father in his study.” 

Leaving this Parthian shaft to rankle, he strode 
off to the school. His wrath, which was never 
more than a ^^flash in the pan,” subsided before he 
had accomplished half the distance. His retort be- 
gan to take, shape in his mind as a defense of the 
Beard versus the, Smooth Face. He fancied him- 
self in court as counsel before the judge in behalf 
of the hirsute growth his old schoolfellow had 
reviled. Between recitations that morning he 
sketched out on paper for his amusement the heads 
of his argument. The story of the envoys in the 
Old Testament who tarried in Jericho until their 
beards were grown recurred to his mind. The in- 
cident showed undoubtedly that the Jews regarded 
the beard as a badgt) of dignity. He remembered 
Michael Angelo’s bearded Jeremiah in the Sistine 
Chapel and his famous statue of Moses. Did not 
the Greek sculptors also represent their gods and 
heroes as bearded, Homer, Pericles, Sophocles, 
and above all, the Olympian Zeus ? Wliat, more- 


THE LAY POPE 


195 


over, was the significance of the Mohammedan oath 
the beard of the Prophet’^ ? On the other 
hand, there was something humorous in the thing. 
Persins spoke of the plajfnl trulls who plucked 
the Stoic philosophers by the beard in the streets 
of Eome. As a modern instance, he recalled hav- 
ing heard bad boys laugh at the whiskers of the 
farmers. He forgot his momentary annoyance in 
the quaint subject so unexpectedly suggested for 
scholarly research. 

Meantime the Bishop and his ^fiay pope” faced 
each other in earnest talk. 

^^You see. Bishop,” the young man said, with 
just a shade of pertness in his brisk, business-like 
tone, ^fit would be far better to have the school 
located in the city. I have a good lot on Madison 
Street I could let you have for a mere song, or 
give you, for that matter. Even if the school 
were small, it would still be something for the city 
in a business way, and it would be much more con- 
venient for the students. It would be nearer the 
Church and nearer the missions you intend to 
found.” 

^^While that is true, Cornelius,” the other re- 
plied, very much prefer to build it on that 
pasture of mine where the road bends toward the 
city. It is only half a mile from here and would 
be much more convenient for me. You see, it will 
be necessary for me to do most of the teaching at 


196 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


first, with Eusebius to help in the Hebrew, and for 
that reason, if for no other, the school must be 
near. I couldn’t ride up to town every day. Be- 
sides, I have a sentiment about it. I want the 
buildings near me, on my own land, and in view 
from my study windows. I have prepared several 
young men for the ministry, as you know, in my 
own house, and this seems the natural extension, 
of the home school. Then, too, I don’t like the 
idea of exposing the young men too much to the 
social distractions of the town. It is better that 
they should spend their spare hours in healthful 
exercise in the fields. 

^^The poorer students could help pay their 
way by working on the farm. I’m sure 
they will he nearer to God when near to na- 
ture. There is nothing so wholesome and sane. 
The worldliness will come soon enough. They 
will he exposed soon enough to the blandishments 
of a certain class of women who always try to make 
pets of clergymen. I want to have time to warn 
them of that beforehand and to store their minds 
with open-air thoughts, so that such temptations 
can have no power when they come. I assure you, 
my mind is quite made up on this point. I’m glad 
you came down this morning, for I should have 
gone to see you this very afternoon if you hudn’t. 
I wanted to tell you that I have, put the building 
in the hands of Bowen, the contractor, and expect 


THE LAY POPE 


197 


to break groniid next week. I want a thousand 
dollars in cash, to begin with, and the sooner the 
better.’’ 

There was a peremptory note in the last words 
which might have given the banker a hint that the 
Bishop’s patience was at an end. He made the 
mistake, however, of protesting. 

thought you were going to consult with me 
before finally deciding upon a contractor ! I like 
Scott much better. Why, that fellow Bowen will 
cheat you out of your eye teeth! And I cannot 
agree with your views in regard to the, location, 
either. It seems to me that we want a more world- 
ly class of ministers, men that have some savoir 
vivre. If you put a country jake into the pulpit 
he will be just the sort of man to have his head 
turned by the first silly woman who comes along. 
How look at Eusebius, for example. He’s safe 
enough as far as women are concerned; but how 
much more influence he would have if he really 
knew the world as it is'I” 

He was going on in this strain when his hearer, 
who had been listening with growing impatience, 
suddenly brought his fist down on the table with 
a force that scattered the papers to the floor and 
caused the pens to rattle on the tray. 

^^Enough, sir, enough !” he shouted. ^Wour own 
father wouldn’t have criticized my methods and 
my son to my face in that way. Upon my word, 


198 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


times have changed when a young v^hippersnapper 
presumes to tell his Bishop what he ought or ought 
not to do ! IVe listened long enough to such talk. 
Bor a year, upon some pretext or other, you have 
persuaded me to postpone the work Grod gave me 
to do; hut my patience is at an end. The school 
shall he placed where I say and begun when I de- 
sire, by a man of my own choosing. Your father 
would he ashamed of you, sir ! We will have no 
more shilly-shally. The money is in your posses- 
sion and I wish you to hand me a thousand dollars 
next Sunday. I’ll have you know, sir, that I’m 
the Bishop of this diocese !” 

Often little Cornelius Van Dam had been 
switched by the Bishop, along with Bernard and 
Eusebius, because of an unlearned paradigm or a 
youthful prank, hut that was long before he aspired 
to he ^day pope.” Whatever his emotions were 
now as he listened to this tongue-lashing, his well- 
schooled face gave no indication of them. It did 
not suit his present plans to show resentment. Be- 
sides, he was making a rapid" calculation in his 
mind to see whether he could furnish the thousand 
dollars just then. It was not so much the first sum 
as the other instalments that must rapidly follow, 
once the work began. At all events, the Bishop 
must not know the true condition of the bank. 
He had all along been fighting for time in the 
hope that certain speculations might turn out sue- 


THE LAY POPE 


199 ; 


cessfiilly. He knew the Bishop well enough to he 
sure that he meant what he said. He was cor- 
nered at last, and there was nothing to do but come 
to terms. 

As they stood at the door the Bishop laid his 
hand kindly on the young man’s shoulder. 

^We ought not to quarrel, Cornelius,” he said. 
^^Your father and I were near of an age, and yet 
he never slighted the authority of the Bishop when 
giving counsel to the friend. I am sure he, would 
have approved of my rebuke to-day. A little storm 
often clears the atmosphere, and I hope we under- 
stand each other better now than we have for some 
time.” 

^^Oh, perfectly, sir,” he replied. ^Yhat’s all 
right. I’ll have the money for you Sunday.” 

After dinner Eusebius sought his father in the 
study. 

^‘1 saw Cornelius drive away like, Jehu,” he 
remarked, ^^and he looked ruffled.” 

brought him up standing,” the Bishop ex- 
plained. ^^He has grown presuming and I thought 
the time had come to show him where we stood 
in relation to each other.” He told of the conver- 
sation and of his decision to break ground for the 
school the following week. Eusebius looked 
troubled. 

^^I’m afraid there’s something more in his at- 


200 


THE FIGHTIKG BISHOP 


titude than appears on the surface/’ he said. ^^He’s 
been growing more and more offish.” 

'Tshaw!” his father laughed. ^There’s good 
stuff in the boj. He’s just feeling his oats a little. 
That will wear off in time. Besides/’ he added, 
^ffie has no wish to lose the handling of my money. 
That will keep him in line, if nothing else does. 
Afterwards, I trust, he will come to see that I was 
right and return to his old loyalty.” 

His son remained silent for a few moments, 
thinking. don’t suppose you could transfer the 
business to the other bank,” he mused. ^^Hot un- 
less you were sure something was wrong. These 
delays — ” 

^^What!” the Bishop interrupted. ^^You don’t 
suppose anything is wrong with the bank, do you ? 
What do you mean?” 

^Tt’s only an intuition, or a vague fear. I 
may be entirely wrong; but I wish we could be 
sure.” 

At the end of a long talk the Bishop remained 
unconvinced of any double-dealing on the part of 
his junior warden and Eusebius acknowledged that 
his fears were probably groundless. On Sunday 
when Van Dam handed over the money without 
demur and with smiling good wishes they both felt 
not only secure but even ashamed of their doubt. 

During the next few weeks the work went hap- 
pily forward. The ground was broken and the 


THE LAY POPE 


201 


stone foundation began to appear above the sod. 
Every day tbe Bishop spent much time in viewing 
the work and talking with the laborers to find 
out their religious proclivities and to offer advice. 
When he sat in his study, the sound of the work- 
men’s voices, the clatter of the trowels, and the 
creaking of the heavy wagons, was music in his 
ears. 

One day Katy begged the use of the buggy and 
went to town to draw her savings from the bank. 
It was not for a trousseau, as the boys with an 
undiminished relish for the old joke insisted, but 
to send to her parents, who were now old and in 
trouble. When she reached the place she found 
the door closed and a long line of depositors wait- 
ing outside with their books, for the news of the 
failure had spread through the town in an hour. 
It was Saturday and for two days none of the 
Ambrose family had been in the city. It was a 
result of their seclusion that the first intimation 
they had of the disaster came from Katy’s heart- 
broken recital on her return. 

Even in his grief and consternation the Bishop • 
felt deeply for the greater sorrow of the servant 
who had served him faithfully for so many years. 
Her savings amounted only to a few hundred dol- 
lars, but it was her all and it meant respite for her 
parents from the poor-house. He insisted on mak- 
ing her loss good from the remnant of the thou- 


202 


THE FiaHTING BISHOP 


sand dollars wliich still remained, both because of 
his pity for her and also from a sense of justice, 
for she had reposed her confidence in her employ- 
er's friend. 

The Bishop was now once more a poor man. He 
still had his salary and his farm, but the savings 
of a lifetime for his cherished object were gone. 
The cheerful sounds of labor ceased. As the 
summer advanced the scarlet woodbine and the 
blue gentian grew up about the deserted foun- 
dations. There Cecily and Cyprian often went 
to play. They built castles with the loose 
stones and knocked them down again in mimic 
battle, laying low the tall standards of golden-rod. 

Their father smiled sadly as he passed, and 
failed to rebuke them for their waste of time and 
their forgetfulness of appointed tasks. 

^Het them play a while longer,” he thought. 
^^When they are old they’ll have grief enough and 
to spare.” 

Sorrow had softened him much. He began 
to realize how lonely he was. Even his wife 
no longer shared his political beliefs. He knew 
well that she had no sympathy with a view 
that favored slavery, that she considered such a 
view cruel. She was as dutiful as ever, but the 
barrier was there, none the less real for being 
ignored. In a rare moment of self-examination 
and humiliation he told himself that Eusebius 


THE LAY POPE 


203 


too might judge him harshly, in spite of his loving 
tact and wisdom. Brooding on these things as he 
felt the evening of life deepening, he thought bit- 
terly that more and more he was destined to tread 
the wine-press alone. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE LETTER OF THE LAW 

It was not characteristic of the Bishop to re- 
lapse into a pessimistic melancholy when men in 
whom he had trusted deceived him. Then, if ever, 
his pugnacity asserted itself, more in behalf of 
righteousness in general than to avenge a personal 
injury. So it was in the case of Van Dam. It 
seemed probable that the young man had wronged 
him and others by a misappropriation of funds en- 
trusLed to his care. It was a case of wickedness 
in a high place. The banker had sinned against 
light. Moreover, the scandal was almost as per- 
sonal a grief to the Bishop as that other one from 
the shadow of which he was just now beginning to 
emerge. Van Dam’s father was the. only intimate 
friend he had ever known. It was not only, there- 
fore, a prominent member of his Church who had 
gone wrong, but almost an adopted son. After the 
first astonishment, he saw that another fight was 
before him and addressed himself to it with his 
usual energy. It might be said truthfully that he 
took a professional interest in the case, as well as 
a personal. Here was a brand in the, fire and it 
204 


THE LETTEE OE THE LAV7 


205 


was his business to snatch it from the burning. If 
Van Dam had sinned he must repent and make 
restitution. He must not he allowed to settle with 
his creditors in his own way and at his own con- 
venience. Every sacrifice must be made, if neces- 
sary, hut justice must he done. 

As soon as he could obtain an interview with 
the banker he asked him what method he proposed 
to pursue. His parishioner’s reply was vague and 
unsatisfactory. He could not tell at once how 
much he would he able to pay on the dollar. It 
appeared that the accounts were in confusion and 
it would require some time to straighten them 
out. Later, he would he able to state his liabilities 
and intentions. The Bishop, not being able to ob- 
tain a definite statement, was forced to wait. He 
could get no satisfactory information as to the 
nature of the investments that had resulted so dis- 
astrously, and the evasiveness of the banker 
strengthened his suspicion of deceit and double- 
dealing. 

The struggle between the two men was renewed 
at intervals. In vain the Bishop tried to pin the 
delinquent down to definite dates and figures. He 
had to deal with a Proteus who knew all the rules 
of the game and had prepared his moves before- 
hand. As the summer wore on it became evident 
that Van Dam was by no means disposed to do 
anything heroic in order to square himself with 


206 


\ THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


tKe world. It was learned that his household 
expenses were curtailed little, if at all. An exam- 
ination disclosed the fact that the establishment 
was being kept up bj his wife, whose own private 
fortune, it was well known, had been considerable 
at the time of her marriage. Van Dam explained 
that his wife was a very good business woman on 
her own account and had prospered in proportion 
as he had failed. It was not possible to prove this 
statement false. When the Bishop questioned 
Mrs. Van Dam she replied that she certainly did 
not feel justified in sacrificing her fortune to meet 
her husband’s obligations. She was very sorry, 
but reverses in business must happen and she did 
not see what she could do about it. She hoped he 
would be able to get on his feet again and ulti- 
mately pay his liabilities in full. She might of- 
fer him some help, with that end in view, but 
there was need of consultation and time. 

The Bishop became more and more exasperated. 
He was accustomed to gain his ends by force and 
directness and in this case he found these qualities 
of no avail. Gradually he became convinced of 
the insincerity and heartlessness of his parishioner. 
In their last interview, which took place at Van 
Dam’s house, he expressed his opinion in unequiv- 
ocal language. The banker was not to be goaded 
into anger or damning admissions. 


THE LETTER OF THE LAW 


207 


dear Bishop,” he protested, in apparent 
despair, ^Vhat would you have me do?” 

‘^Do ?” the other echoed. ^^Anything but what 
you are doing now. Your honor is your wife’s 
honor as well. She ought to be willing to sell her 
property, to turn it into cash, and to pay those 
poor people who put their confidence in your in- 
tegrity and business ability. You ought to give 
up your house and your servants and begin again, 
poor but with a clear conscience. I have said 
the same to your wife, and believe she would agree 
if you tried to persuade her. A woman naturally 
takes her ideas of business honesty from her hus- 
band, and I very much fear, sir, I very much fear, 
that her unwillingness to move in this matter is 
due to your influence.” 

‘And I very much fear that Mrs. Van Dam’s 
mind, as well as her property, is her own, to 
do with as she likes,” the banker replied, dryly. 
His nerves were much shaken by the long strain 
he had undergone and the Bishop’s persistence 
had several times driven him to the verge of an 
irritable outbreak. He wished he could summon 
up a righteous indignation, but he could not. Le- 
gally, he was safe, but it seemed as if Fate, in the 
person of that terrible old man, stood over him, 
whip in hand, to beat him down at last. He, sus- 
pected also that the Bishop’s concern for his own 
money contributed quite as much to his indigna- 


208 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


tion as did liis regard for tlie poor, and this 
thought gave his irritation a touch of scorn. 

His retort fired the Bishop to sudden wrath. 
He rose to his feet and walked hack and forth as 
he was wont to do under the stress of excitement. 

^^You refuse, then,’’ he demanded, ‘^to move a 
finger in this matter? Let us understand each 
other clearly for once. Do you intend deliberate- 
ly to repudiate your obligations, to allow the poor 
to suffer and the work of the Church to languish, 
while you live in elegance and ease ?” 

^^These are very strong expressions, sir,” the 
other replied, coldly. ^^They require some expla- 
nation.” 

^^They shall he explained! I mean nothing 
more nor less than this. You have taken refuge 
behind a legal technicality to transfer your money 
to your wife in order to save yourself from the 
just punishment of your reckless speculations. I 
call it dishonest ; you understand me now. I was 
slow to believe it of the son of my old friend, but 
at last I am convinced. It is my duty as your 
Bishop to demand that you right the wrong you 
have done by every means in your power. This is 
not impertinent interference. You know it as 
well as I do.” 

^^Yes, but what can I do ? You see the matter 
is no longer in my own hands. I am poor — ” 

^^Enough I” the Bishop interrupted. see you 


TEE LETTER OF THE LAW 


209 


don’t deny the charge. Of course I can’t prove it. 
Pray, don’t perjure yourself any more by the old 
twists and turnings. I see that the love of money 
has entirely hardened your heart. But let me tell 
you one thing, and then I will go. I forbid you, 
Cornelius, to present yourself at the Communion 
rail until you have previously signified to me your 
intention of doing as I demand. The rubric of 
the Church is unmistakable. Tf any man have 
done any wrong to his neighbors by word or deed, 
so that the Congregation is thereby offended, he 
shall advertise him that he presume not to come 
to the Lord’s Table, until he have openly declared 
himself to have truly repented.’ You have done 
wrong: the congregation is offended. You harden 
your heart and live still in your sin. I am strictly 
within my rights, and I do this for your own good, 
that you may realize how low you have fallen and 
may repent before it is too late.” 

The banker was dumfounded. He had been a 
Churchman all his life, but he was ignorant of the 
very existence of this rubric. He had none of 
the veneration for the power of the Church and 
the authority of her accredited representatives that 
distinguishes the attitude of Eoman Catholics. 
He had always been amused that any one should 
be appalled by the threat of excommunication, and 
this was even less serious. Yet, in spite of him- 
self, he was impressed, even dismayed. A lesser 


210 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


man than Bishop Ambrose would have aroused 
only his amusement by such a course. “Now, as he 
looked up at the erect, gray figure before him, 
he was overcome by a sense of mysterious spiritual 
power which he had never felt before. It was no 
longer his father’s friend, his old school-master, 
his rector, the terrible and persistent old man, but 
the Bishop who held him strictly to account by 
virtue of the rights of his holy office. Only when 
the Bishop put him from him in this extraordi- 
nary way did he see him at last in the true per- 
spective. 

^^But my wife — ” he began, lamely. 

more of that,” the Bishop commanded. 
^^That was the old excuse in the Garden of Eden. 
I have told you already that I consider her atti- 
tude your fault. You are the head of your wife ; 
you can do what you will. It is not a question of 
law, but of right, and unfortunately the two are 
not always the same. Hot another word. I leave 
you alone with your own conscience, and I expect 
you to let me know of your change of heart before 
you presume to come to the holy Communion. 
You are using religion now as a ^cloak of ma- 
liciousness !’ ” 

He was turning to go when the banker arrested 
him by speaking again. 

^The Church shall not suffer. Bishop,” he said. 
‘^Our contributions shall be kept up just the same. 


THE LETTER OF THE LAW 


211 


And I think something can be done about the 
school. Perhaps my wife might he prevailed upon 
to make that good, at least.” 

The other faced him a moment in silence until 
the full force of the words sank into his mind. 

'^Have you not learned to know me better in all 
these years, Cornelius?” he asked, sadly. ^^Do 
you think to bribe me by such a promise ? I pass 
by the insult to me; that affects me less. It is 
not to man hut to God that you would lie. Do you 
suppose His work could prosper on money un- 
justly wrung from the poor ? As to your contri- 
butions to the Church, the sooner they cease the 
better. It is blood-money and I will not have it. 
You are at the parting of the ways. Take your 
choice, but remember this : you need not hope to 
be able to bribe the Church to wink at your wicked- 
ness. You can not serve two masters, and you 
must make your choice between them now.” 


CHAPTEE XIX 


THE BISHOP IS AS GOOD AS HIS WOED 

As the Bisliop reached the sidewalk he saw Mrs. 
Van Dam drive in at the lower gate. In spite of 
his temptation to retnrn and go over the whole 
ground again with both of them together he real- 
ized that he was too weary for the effort. He 
therefore merely returned her cheerful salutation 
and passed on. Moreover, he did not doubt that 
he was correct in laying the whole responsibility 
on her husband’s shoulders, and he hoped that 
when she was informed of what had passed she 
would add her persuasions to those of her Bishop. 

When he contemplated women he turned upon 
them, so to speak, the blind spot of his mental 
vision. He never took them quite seriously as 
independent beings. To him a woman was always 
some man’s wife or daughter or sister or mother, 
as the case might he ; and so, if he was tyrannical 
toward them, it was yet true that he was tolerant 
and chivalrous, for he always laid their shortcom- 
ings at the door of some particular man. It was 
largely due to this habit of mind that he had 
found so little difficulty in exonerating Anna and 
21S 


AS GOOD AS ms WORD 


213 


Holding Tom strictly to account. This high esti- 
mate of their virtue might please the priest-wor- 
shipers of the sex, hut clever and worldly women, 
like the wife of the banker, could not fail to see 
its inadequacy. 

As Mrs. Van Dam removed her hat and gloves 
she listened placidly to her husband’s narration of 
the scene which had just taken place. She could 
not fail to observe, that he was really troubled by 
the extreme position the Bishop had taken and the 
perception strengthened her first impulse to view 
the matter lightly. 

^^And so he lays the whole blame upon you, does 
he she asked with a smile. feel my good- 
ness, as he regards it, complimented at the expense 
of my intelligence. Cornelius, that man does ir- 
ritate me so ! I wish I were married to him for 
just about one week. I’ll warrant he would learn 
more about women in that time than his poor little 
wife has taught him in thirty years ! You needn’t 
look so shocked. He’s only a man and a very 
stupid one, too, in some ways, in spite of his learn- 
ing. I see he has finally hypnotized you as he did 
your father.” 

^^But suppose he should do as he says ? Think 
of the scandal.” 

She stood weighing the probabilities thought- 
fully. It would be unpleasant to come to open 
hostilities with one’s Bishop. She had been brought 


214 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


Hp in the Church and could abide no other. The 
comfortable pew, the dainty Prayer Book, the 
decorous service, the social associations, were all 
a part of her life-long experience. She wished 
to retain all these things, hut to retain them at 
the sacrifice the Bishop demanded was preposter- 
ous. Such a thing was Quixotic as well as ruin- 
ous. A compromise suggested itself to her mind. 

^^You might go to Church as usual but stay 
away from Communion. It might be noticed, 
youVe been so regular, but the later Communion 
comes only once a month, you know.” 

^'1 might do that,” he assented, but without any 
perceptible relief. doubt if that would satisfy 
him. He wants everything so definitely under- 
stood, confound him ! Bishops are always tyrants 
or diplomats, and he’s a tyrant.” 

^To his wife and family, yes,” she replied, ^^and 
to the meek and lowly generally; but not to us, 
I fancy. I don’t believe he’ll do anything extreme. 
It isn’t human nature to kill the goose that lays the 
golden egg, and even he is human, quite human 
and fallible, in spite of the apostolic succession, 
which I hear he has proved in a book to his own 
perfect satisfaction. He wants his money back 
so that he can build that school. We might do 
something about that after awhile.” 

^^You don’t know him as well as I do,” said her 
husband, gloomily. ^^He won’t take his own 


AS GOOD AS Ills WORD 


215 


money unless I settle with every one else at the 
same time, either in whole or at the same ratio.’’ 

^^Upon my word,” she exclaimed, thought 
you knew men better than that! I can put my 
finger on the crucial spot in this whole difficulty. 
He makes common cause with the others, of course. 
He couldn’t do otherwise in decency, at first. Just 
wait awhile; you’ll see that I am right.” 

Clever as this analysis was, it merely showed 
that Mrs. Van Dam was as far from the truth in 
grouping all men together as the Bishop in his 
similar attitude toward women. Each had met 
the exception and failed to recognize it. 

The banker said no more in support of his fears. 
Though not quite convinced, he was silenced, for 
the doctrine his wife preached was one on 
which he had often acted. The Bishop’s last 
solemn warning had convinced him for a time that 
he was above bribery, but his wife’s cynicism 
caused his suspicions to return. He almost per- 
suaded himself that the threat was merely a pose, 
or a final trump card played to win a doubtful 
game. Fighting with these mean thoughts was his 
real knowledge of the man whom he was trying 
to weigh in the ordinary scales of the commercial 
world. Shame at seeming less discerning than his 
wife helped him to relegate this knowledge to the 
nebulous background of his consciousness, but 


216 


THE EIGIITING BISHOP 


there it loomed, nevertheless, a perpetual menace 
to his peace. 

The following Sunday was the first in the 
month. The Bishop had apprised Eusebius of his 
ultimatum and they both hoped for some sign of 
repentance before the day arrived. As none came, 
they did not doubt that Van Dam would absent 
himself from Communion altogether. Indeed, that 
was just what he had finally decided to do. When 
Sunday came, therefore, he sat with his wife in 
his accustomed place, his mind somewhat calmed 
by his decision. 

But the habit was stronger than he realized. 
When the others rose to depart before the Com- 
munion he kept his seat in nervous indecision until 
his withdrawal would have been conspicuous. Even 
so, he told himself, he would not go up to the rail. 
That, on the whole, would be less noticeable than 
to leave the church altogether. Meanwhile, to 
occupy the moments which had now grown so op- 
pressive, he turned the leaves of his Prayer Book 
in search of the rubric on which the Bishop had 
based his action. He supposed it must be some- 
where 'among the Articles in the back. Failing to 
find it there, he turned to the front of the book and 
began to look at random. 

The prayer of Oblation had never seemed so 
long before. How well he remembered the suc- 
cessive sentences, beginning with ^^and’^ ! How 


AS GOOD AS HIS WORD 


21T 


often as a boy he had counted them off wearily; 
^^And we most humbly beseech thee/’ ^^And we 
earnestly desire/’ ^^And here we offer and pre- 
sent,” ^^And although we are unworthy,” until, 
with relief, he saw the words, ^‘Here may he sung a 
Hymn' ! How often in later life the familiar 
words had fallen on his inattentive ears, while he 
knelt and thought of business cares and worries! 
He had heard the objection raised to a formal 
liturgy that by dint of repetition the petitions lost 
their freshness and force, and he had felt con- 
vinced of the truth of the objection, though the 
conviction had caused him no uneasiness. How 
he realized for the first time the piercing power 
and sadness of association. Could any new phrases 
come home to him with such force as these, so well- 
remembered? ^^And although we are unworthy, 
through our manifold sins, to offer unto thee any 
sacrifice.” At last he listened, and the phrase 
stung him like a whip. 

As he rose from his knees and sat by his wife’s 
side he resumed his random search for the fatal 
rubric. During the singing of the hymn he found 
it where, he told himself, he ought to have had 
sense enough to look at first, at the very beginning 
of the Communion service. The mysterious power 
of the written law oppressed him. 

So the authority was real, after all ! The com- 
municants began to go forward. He looked at 


218 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


the Bishop and Eusebius performing the sacra- 
ment with their usual quiet dignity and felt that 
he dared not go up. 

The last group was passing by when his wife, 
rose to join them. Eor a moment she paused 
and looked down upon him with a smile in which 
he read a challenge. He could not analyze the 
motive that made him rise to his feet and walk up 
the aisle by her side. Perhaps it was shame at 
seeming to take the absurd threat so seriously. 
Perhaps he hoped that the Bishop would construe, 
his coming as a sign of repentance and would not 
pass him by. 

He knelt by his wife’s side at the extreme left 
of the line. Slowly, very slowly, the Bishop drew 
nearer, placing the bread in each outstretched 
hand while he repeated the words without a tremor. 
Van Dam could not reckon with his sensations as 
the white-robed figure came toward him. His 
mind seemed to be in a stupor. Something mo- 
mentous was about to happen. It was too late to 
escape now, but afterward he would have time to 
think it over. 

When the Bishop came to Mrs. Van Dam he 
put the bread into her hand and, passing her hus- 
band as if he had not seen him, he finished the sen- 
tence impressively. Then he turned, replaced the 
paten upon the altar, and knelt in prayer. Eusebius, 
following with the cup, could not do otherwise 


AS GOOD AS HIS WOED 


219 


than his father had done. Mrs Van Dam 
was not sure that the Bishop’s oversight was inten- 
tional until she had tasted the wine and seen that 
also refused her husband. Then it was too late, 
even had she wished, to show her resentment by 
refusing the cup. 

As they went down the aisle together she walked 
erect, two bright spots burning on her cheeks. But 
Van Dam seemed dazed, like one in a dream. 
His wife turned into their pew as usual, but he 
passed by and went slowly out of the church, 
never to enter it again. 


CHAPTEE XX 


THE PEICE OF A SOHG 

When Stephen went hack to his organ he was 
not convicted of error by his own judgment, hut 
he wisely determined to agree with his adversary. 
His experience with poverty had frightened him, 
and he felt that his father would make good his 
threat to take him home if he repeated his eccen- 
tric conduct. Erom that time, therefore, the ex- 
pression of his irritation never passed beyond a 
few foolish and petulant words. He could not ap- 
preciate the wisdom and forbearance of his rector, 
so far in excess of his deserts. When by himself 
he held imaginary conversations in which he re- 
lieved his mind of its burden of injury. People 
turned to watch the strange, pale youth talking 
and gesticulating in the crowded street, oblivious 
of his surroundings. The habit had grown on 
him, and it served as a safety valve through which 
his irritation could escape instead of exploding in 
desperate deeds. 

The Columbia student finished his studies and 
did not return in the fall. One morning Stephen 
came down to breakfast to find the, place of his 
quondam tormentor taken by a young woman. 

320 


THE PEICE OF A SOHG- 


221 


^^Another school-teacher, I suppose,’’ he thought, 
as he took his seat. ^^hTow we shall have some 
more foolish cackle.” 

When his landlady introduced him to Miss 'Nel- 
son he put on the glasses he had lately assumed 
and regarded the new comer with the suggestion of 
a quizzical smile playing about the corners of his 
mouth. 

^^Are you in the educational line, too?” he 
queried. ^^Teaching the young idea to shoot, 
hey ?” 

She shook her pretty blond head. 

^^^N’o,” she answered. She hesitated a moment, 
but could not resist her impulse to confide. 

^^I’m in the theater ; I’m an actress.” 

You play the heavy roles, I suppose,” he sug- 
gested; ^^Desdemona, Kosalind, Portia.” 

He was so amused at his own wit that his tea- 
cup rattled in his hand against the saucer, but he 
strove to keep his broadening grin innocently 
friendly. 

^^Oh, I know you’re laughing at me,” she re- 
torted, seemingly neither abashed nor hurt. ^Wou 
know I’m just beginning. We have our first re- 
hearsal this afternoon.” 

^Alany lines to say ?” he persisted, relentlessly. 

She elevated her chin in pretended defiance. 

^^Hever mind; I mean to have a speaking part 
soon, even if I do have to begin in the chorus. I’ve 


222 


THE EIGIITIHG BISHOP 


played leading parts in private theatricals at home, 
in Middletown/’ 

Stephen was delighted. Evidently, she saw his 
intention of poking fun at her, and yet for some 
reason she chose to play into his hands. Perhaps 
her egotism demanded that she talk about herself 
on any conditions. 

^^I’ve heard of Middletown,” he remarked, sol- 
emnly. ^^The manager will not he such a fool as 
to overlook your record.” 

When he left the table he chuckled all the way 
to his room. Miss ^Nelson amused him even more 
than the love affair of Basil and Imogen, and he 
foresaw good times ahead. 

During the next few meals their badinage be- 
came a habit, and their retorts assumed set forms, 
none the less amusing because of frequent repeti- 
tion. It was not long before Stephen knew all 
about Middletown, the private theatricals, the ap- 
plause Miss Nelson’s efforts had won from her 
townspeople, and the confident predictions that 
had attended her on her departure for the city. 

An older listener would have been touched by 
her unconsciousness of the road that lay before 
her, the hard struggle for recognition, the jeal- 
ousies and intrigues. A poet, moved by her beauty, 
might have likened her to a bright flower tossed 
into the great whirlpool of the metropolis, to he 
dragged down into the vortex or else thrown hack 


THE PKICE OF A SOHG 


223 


ruined upon her native shore. But Stephen saw 
nothing pathetic in Lillian IN'elson. He recognized 
with the discernment of an inborn cynicism that 
she was absurdly ill-equipped for real achievement 
on the stage. He knew that she could be, at best, 
only a pretty chorus-girl going through her ridicu- 
lous performance for ten dollars a week, while 
abler or more unscrupulous rivals passed beyond 
her. 

The fact that she never once doubted her ulti- 
mate success was to him a source of endless amuse- 
ment. He played upon her conceit to draAV her 
out, and she walked into the trap with her eyes 
wide open because she held his opinion light and 
he made no appeal as a man to her imagination. 
They became, in a way, good comrades. They 
were the only young people in the house, and some 
sort of affiliation between them was inevitable. 

Her room was behind his own and commanded 
a view of the back garden. Whenever he passed 
her open door and saw her sitting within he would 
exchange some word Avith her. Often the tilt took 
the form of inquiry. 

^^How’s Desdemona to-day ? Amiable, as 
usual 

^^How^s the future Beethoven? GroAving?^^ 

He began to wonder whether he could ever an- 
noy her. 

Was she really sweet-tempered, or merely cold 


224 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


and shallow? Her personality teased him with 
speculation. He debated with himself whether 
there was anything behind that smiling mask; 
and this uncertainty of mind in one who was usu- 
ally so sure of his knowledge was a danger signal 
he neither saw nor guessed. She occupied his 
thoughts more and more, so that he forgot to quar- 
rel with his choir and rector, much to their wonder 
and relief. The acidity of his nature seemed grad- 
ually to he transmuted into geniality by her im- 
perturbable good humor, and his tongue lost its 
sting. He no longer worked at his opera, but 
played at random, or sat with idle hands, staring 
vacantly until he surprised himself by laughing 
aloud. 

One night, after the theater, he caught sight of 
her walking ahead of him on Broadway. Before 
he could reach her side he saw a man approach her 
with furtive glance and attempt to speak. She 
paid no attention, hut quickened her pace, and her 
pursuer turned suddenly down a side street, as if 
ashamed. For the first time in his life he was 
stirred by a feeling of chivalry toward a woman. 
She turned at the sound of his voice, vibrating un- 
evenly with indignation. 

^^Why didn’t you slap the fellow’s face, Lil- 
lian?” She laughed brightly. A touch of hard- 
ness had crept into her nature since he first knew 
her giving her good humor a metallic quality. 


THE PRICE OF A SOHG 


225 


got rid of him easily, didn’t I? He was 
nothing to some of them.” 

He was amazed and angry at her lack of indig- 
nation. Conld nothing stir her ? Did she not 
know that she had been insulted ? 

^^Why didn’t you slap his face ?” he reiterated 
with growing excitement. was just going to 
do it myself when he ran away.” 

^^Thank you for your good intentions,” she re- 
plied, in a tone that suggested skepticism rather 
than gratitude. ^Hf I stopped to slap the face of 
every man who spoke to me after the theater I 
would never get home.” 

^^You don’t mean it!” he cried. ^^Well, I’ll see 
that it doesn’t occur again. I’ll call for you at 
the theater every night myself. The fools ! The 
driveling idiots 1 I could kill them I You’re 
nothing hut a little girl, Lillian, and I mean to 
look out for you.” 

^H’m older than you are,” she retorted. can 
take care of myself.” 

Hull of his thought, he failed to notice the cold- 
ness with which she had received his promise of 
escort. 

^^Well, you seem only a little girl to me, Lil- 
lian,” he persisted. little girl,” he repeated, 
dreamily. 

Stephen kept his word. Every night from that 


226 


THE FiailTIHG BISHOP 


time he waited patiently at the stage entrance for 
the pretty chorns-girl. 

He listened to her criticism of the leading lady. 
Her remarks concerning the men of the company 
moved him to a vague but unacknowledged jeal- 
ousy. Her egotism had conquered his. She chat- 
tered about theatrical affairs with a wearisome 
iteration which he would have found intolerable in 
any one else. When that subject was exhausted 
she returned to Middletown and told him of her 
many love affairs. Did she see that she put him 
on the rack, and did she enjoy his sufferings ? 

He gave her a great deal of advice and scolded 
her roundly, hut nothing he said ever struck home. 
The old give-and-take between them was gone. 
He became solicitous, tender. She was cool, smil- 
ing, unmoved as ever. She accepted his growing 
devotion as food for her vanity and found him a 
convenient receptacle for her confidences. 

Under the influence of his love he set to music 
a short lyric she had praised, and took it to a 
publisher with an anxiety very different from his 
former arrogance. Almost to his surprise, the 
composition was accepted. The music was pub- 
lished with his name on the cover and his dedica- 
tion to Lillian Helson. 

The song became popular in the city and was 
sung in the, very theater where Lillian played. He 
went to hear it and watched her where she stood. 


THE PEICE OF A SOHO 


227i 


every note speaking to his soul of her. If she could 
only have been the singer ! lie almost hated the 
woman who sang the song, the music that Lillian 
ought to sing, but could not. 

His success gave her a new view of him and 
made amends for much. His own pride in his 
genius was touched with the humility of love. 
Their companionship became constant and inti- 
mate, and they were regarded as lovers. Some- 
times, when they were going out, she arranged his 
tie with a few deft touches, and he trembled and 
flushed at her proximity. Again, she would laugh- 
ingly insist that he brush his clothes, or suggest 
some change he might make for the better. He 
was grateful for her concern, little dreaming that 
she longed for a more fashionable escort. His 
lack of presence sometimes stirred within her a 
feeling of cruelty toward him. 

Thus the winter passed, and it seemed to him 
like a short dream. The springtime came again, 
and as the grass grew green in Union Square his 
love became an abiding ache in his heart. 

He stood one afternoon in her doorway as she 
was arranging a new theatrical gown upon the 
bed. 

^^Come in,’’ she said, ‘^and shut the door. I 
want to show you my new dress.” 

He did as she requested, with a delicious sense 
of privilege. The gown lay outspread on the 


228 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


counterpane, an undulating mass of rose color, 
and they stood looking at it, side by side. 

^^Isn’t it lovely?’’ she demanded, lifting one 
dainty sleeve. ^^That’s a bit of real lace my 
mother sent me. ^^’one of the girls has anything 
to compare with it.” 

^Tillian,” he said, ^^you’re too fond of dress. 
Of course it’s pretty, but it occupies too much of 
your thoughts. You’ll never succeed if you put 
costume before acting.” 

don’t, you foolish boy,” she retorted. ^^Sit 
down and talk to me while I fix my hair. I’m go- 
ing out soon.” 

He looked for a chair, but they were all heaped 
with articles of apparel. She saw his bewilder- 
ment and took from the rocking-chair near the 
window a copy of Shakespeare and a pair of blue 
garters with silver buckles. He blushed as he sat 
down, but she put the garters on the bureau uncon- 
cernedly and, turning to the mirror, she let down 
her hair in a shimmering cataract that reached 
below her waist. His presence did not stir her 
pulses, but Stephen was burning with a subtle 
fire. 

^^Lillian,” he stammered, ^^you look like a 
nymph that way, a goddess. I could put you into 
music.” 

She braided her hair with clever fingers and 
began to gather it into a coil upon her head. She 


THE PRICE OF A SOKG 


229 


flashed at him an amused glance and answered as 
well as she, could with hairpins between her white 
teeth : 

^^Stephen, I don’t know what to make of you 
lately. You used to spend all your time scolding 
me, but you’ve changed. You’ve become as gentle 
as a pet lamb.” 

A wave of passionate desire surged through him. 
He staggered to his feet, his eyes feverish. 

have, changed,” he gasped. love you. Oh, 
LiUian!” 

He tried to fold her in his arms, but she eluded 
his embrace and set her back against the wall, 
laughing. Her braid, not yet fastened, tumbled 
down over her shoulder, and the hairpins dropped 
to the carpet. 

^^Don’t touch me!” she cried, warding him ofl 
with her hands. ^Hon’t touch me !” 

Her nervous laughter died, and her face stif- 
fened. Her eyes looked straight into his, and he 
saw repugnance mirrored in the wide, distended 
pupils. At first he was too much blinded by pas- 
sion to realize the meaning of that look. He strove 
again to come near her. For one moment he beat 
down her hands, and his lips just brushed her 
cheek as she darted away. The fragrance of her 
hair and skin made him faint. He leaned against 
the wall and smiled at her foolishly. But his 
triumph was short-lived. He. saw her angry at 


230 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


last, and the light of her eyes filled him with ter- 
ror. 

^^Don’t do that again she cried. ^^You make 
me hate you.’’ 

^^Hate me !” 

The words dropped from his lips as if they 
had been spoken by some one else. His voice 
sounded strange and hoarse. She could not bear 
his touch. She hated him. As he looked at her 
he knew that it was true. 

Humiliation and rage succeeded wondering ter- 
ror. The history of his passion whirled dizzily 
through his head ; at first, his amusement and tol- 
erance, then their good fellowship, that night on 
Broadway, his faithful attendance upon her since, 
his song. And now their positions were reversed. 
It was she who regarded him with amusement, 
nay, with scorn. He was repulsive to her. She 
would not let him touch her ; she, a chorus-girl, a 
nobody, trampled under her feet with a laugh the 
offering of Stephen Ambrose. 

It required but a few minutes to work a revolu- 
tion in him as he faced her, breathing hard, a 
dull crimson glow mounting to his forehead. He 
saw it all now. She had led him on and fooled 
him. He was fired with a kind of fury against 
her ; but even at that moment he groped desper- 
ately for self-control. His old pride, his arrogance. 


THE PRICE OE A SONG 


231 


awoke from its long lethargy. She must not gness 
his hurt. 

The silence between them seemed an hour. How 
strange that at such a time he should notice that 
the clock in his room struck five and should hear 
the clatter of the dishes in the basement where 
dinner was preparing! 

His eyes fell upon the hairpins at his feet. He 
picked them up and placed them on the bureau 
with elaborate politeness. Then he resumed his 
chair by the window. 

^^You need have no fear,” He said, frigidly, 
though he could not restrain the nervous twitch- 
ing of his limbs. will not touch you again.” 

She went back to the mirror without a word. 
She was sorry for her expression, but she could 
not unsay it. She could not explain to herself, 
much less to him, why her physical aversion to 
him was so strong. She only knew that if he were 
to touch her again she would scream. It was evi- 
dent that he had no further intention of doing so, 
and the ugly lines of anger faded from her face. 
Her tense lips became curved once more, and the 
tranquillity returned to her eyes. He had been 
disagreeable, but she would be rid of him soon. 
For some time a companion had begged her to 
come to her boarding-house, and she resolved to 
go the next day. 

Stephen felt that he must gain the ascendency 


232 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


in some way before be went. He would not creep 
away humiliated. 

He saw her trying her hair in one position and 
then another, turning her head from side to side to 
catch the effect. 

^^You’re too self-conscious to make a great ac- 
tress,’’ he broke forth. ^^You’re too fond of dress 
and too self-conscious. Unless you get more heart 
you’ll remain in the ranks all your life,” 

She had already taken farewell of him in her 
mind and she scarcely heard what he said. Sud- 
denly she caught the effect she desired and turned 
from the mirror to view in her hand-glass the re- 
flection of the back of her head. He rose from his 
chair and ran from the room in uncontrollable irri- 
tation and despair. 

He locked his door and sat down to play. He 
did not hear the bell that called him to dinner 
nor notice that the day was past until the keys 
glimmered faintly in the gloom. At last he paused, 
exhausted. He heard the clatter of dishes in the 
dining-room below, but the thought of going down 
there was intolerable. He seized his hat and crept 
forth into the street, determined to return no 
more. 

For days he kept away. He was afraid, he 
scarcely knew why. Had the boarders heard any- 
thing? Had she told them of his discomfiture? 


THE PRICE OF A SOHO 


233 


He watched for her in the street, longing to see 
her from afar, yet determined to avoid her. 

His anger and pride gave place to a yearning to 
see her once more, if only for a moment. 

One night he watched across the street until 
one o^clock in the morning, hut she did not come. 
The curtains of his own windows were drawn and 
stared blankly down upon him. The next night 
he took up a position near the, theater and saw 
her come out with her friend, accompanied by one 
of the men of the company. They went up Broad- 
way, laughing and talking, and he followed them 
at a distance till he saw them all enter at the same 
door. He knew then that she had left the hoard- 
ing-house for good, and jealousy was added to his 
despair. 

The next day he returned home. The front 
door was open and he saw his landlady setting the 
table at the end of the hallway. She came out 
and gave him a curious look. 

thought I should lose two hoarders at the 
same time,’’ she said. ^^Miss ^Nelson left the morn- 
ing after you did. Have you come hack to get 
your things ?” 

He hurst into a mirthless laugh. Evidently, 
she suspected a scandal. 

^^So you thought we had eloped together?” he 
demanded. ^Thank you, no. I’ve been on a jour- 


234 


THE EIGHTIIsra BISHOP 


ney. I was called aw^ay suddenly. I’ll be down 
to dinner.” 

At tbe table tbe food choked him. The other 
boarders were unusually silent, and he felt that 
they were all speculating about him and her. The 
knowledge of their suspicions angered him ; but, 
most of all, he missed that bright face opposite him 
and the sound of her well-remembered voice. There 
was no gesture, no intonation, no curve of her 
lips, that he did not know and love. The memory 
became oppressive. He rose abruptly from the 
table and returned to his room. 

He sat down by the window and looked out into 
the street. His tears blurred the lights in the win- 
dows opposite. Then his desolation dawned more 
fully upon him and he wept without restraint. 
He had returned, it seemed, to the house from 
which a loved one had been carried away dead. 
Hever again would the consciousness of her pres- 
ence in that little room inspire him to play for her 
alone. He would never again hear her step upon 
the stair. 

His sobs died away and the silence of the room 
fell upon him with a chill of nameless terror. He 
rose from his chair, trembling, and groped for the 
piano. 


CHAPTEK XXI 


TOM ASSEETS HIS EIGHTS 

The political campaign of 1860 was now well 
under way. Tom and Basil had decided to vote 
for Lincoln. Eusebius was still indifferent, though 
he inclined more toward Douglas, and his father 
had finally persuaded him that it was his duty 
to go to the polls. When the two discussed politics 
at the table their views were no longer challenged. 
Basil had sense enough to see that a vote was of 
more value than many words, and there was no 
one present whom he could convert to his own 
faith except his mother and Gus. The Bishop ob- 
served his silence and thought that the boy no 
longer dared to cross swords with him. In this 
supposition he was entirely mistaken. Many a 
time the young Republican thought he detected 
a gap in his father^s logical armor and longed 
to send in an arrow, but respect, not fear, re- 
strained him. He realized that the Bishop’s mind 
had hardened into certain lines of thought from 
which no arguments could divert him, and he had 
no love of controversy for its own sake. He. re- 
served his good points, therefore, for Tom’s ears, 
235 


236 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


when they went over the ground together and 
strengthened each other in their faith. 

About this time Basil began the study of law. 
His father still hoped that he would return to the- 
ology, hut he assisted him with his own legal 
knowledge and took down the calf-bound volumes 
he had not used for so many years. The Bishop 
had lived several intellectual lives, so to speak, 
and he discovered an unexpected pleasure in re- 
freshing his legal lore for the benefit of his son. 
Often, as they discussed a knotty point together, 
he was reminded of some incident in his career as 
lawyer or judge. These reminiscences gave. Basil 
a conception of the worldly possibilities his father 
had forsaken for the Church. Had he continued 
his legal career he might have risen high in the 
councils of the nation. He might, perhaps, have 
become Secretary of State, or Chief Justice, or 
even President. So, at least, Basil proudly imag- 
ined, and often this hypothetical figure loomed 
grandly in his mind beside the venerable reality. 

Meanwhile, Tom was performing his duties as 
overseer conscientiously and well. A realization 
of his importance as a husband and father gave 
him at times a dignity not untouched with pathos. 
He was resolved to win happiness and honorable 
regard, in spite of his false beginning. It was a 
great satisfaction to have a house of his own and 
to be able to earn his own living. His appoint- 


TOM ASSEETS HIS EIGHTS 


237 


ment was a good thing also in another way, for the 
Bishop’s age made an active superintendence of 
the farm increasingly difficult. Tor the first time 
Tom gave his father something better than eye- 
service. He hated hooks and loved the open air. 
His personal habits were no longer under surveil- 
lance and he smoked without fear. At evening 
he returned expectantly to his little home, and 
though his wife failed to come up to his mother’s 
standard as a housekeeper, he could not fail to see 
that at first she made an effort. 

Anna, on her part, was not altogether satisfied 
with her husband. He cared nothing for the inch, 
more or less, of social position that seemed to her 
of such consequence and would make no effort to 
take his place in the world. The religious side of 
her nature amused him and caused him to jest 
roughly at her expense. When a woman disap- 
proves of her husband’s attitude on religious 
and social questions, and when, moreover, she looks 
down on his immaturity from the vantage 
ground of seven years’ seniority, their chance of 
happiness is small indeed. But when, in addition, 
each has learned to distrust the other’s moral 
stamina, the chance is reduced to a disheartening 
minimum. These were the conditions that faced 
them, and the result was inevitable. 

Anna’s skill as a needle-woman by no means 
made amends for her shortcomings in general 


238 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


housekeeping. She fell back very soon on her 
alleged delicacy of constitution and demanded a 
servant. Tom supplied the demand good-natur- 
edly, though with a certain unacknowledged scorn, 
for his own splendid strength made it impossible 
for him to know what it means to drag a weary 
body from the cradle to the grave. In his secret 
soul he did not believe that any one, not on a sick 
bed, could be, or at least ought to be, weary for 
more than a few minutes at a time. Even so, the 
domestic machinery did not run smoothly. Anna’s 
treatment of her husband was never consistent. 
He could not tell whether she would greet him 
with tenderness or complaints when he returned 
from the fields. She never thought of making 
the particular dish he cared for, or of humoring 
a pet prejudice. Her industry was employed in 
sewing for herself and the baby, and she exacted 
a tribute of admiration for the results of these 
efforts which her husband knew not how to give. 

If he ventured to suggest some improvement in 
her manner of keeping the house she did not fail to 
remark that she was proud of her inexperience 
rather than ashamed of it. She had not been 
brought up to be the wife of a simple farmer. 
Once he was stung to the retort that her position 
was due entirely to her own fault. The insinua- 
tion conveyed by the words aroused her to a frenzy 
of tears that caused his temporary subjugation. 


TOM ASSERTS IIIS EIGHTS 


239 


ISTevertlieless, he began to perceive that she had 
led him on at the time when his young conceit 
made him feel that she was yielding reluctantly 
to his persuasions. This growing conviction re- 
sulted in an increasing carelessness of word and 
deed. At times the brutal impulses of his nature 
ruled him and their quarrels were shocking. 

One evening in September he found her on 
his return in the parlor, bending over a yellow- 
covered dream book. The baby lay in his soiled 
clothes, forgotten on the floor, for though she made 
him fine garments she had no stomach for the hu- 
miliating ministrations by which alone he could 
be kept clean. She lacked also the mother-love 
that dignifies such tasks and makes them worthy. 
Her servant, a slattern daughter of Trench Camp, 
was preparing supper unassisted in the kitchen. 
Tom knew from experience that only by virtue of 
a healthy appetite could he eat the meal that would 
be placed before him. He was tired out and the 
picture that met his eyes filled him with sudden 
irritation. It was like her, he thought. It was all 
of a piece with the rolls of dust under the furni- 
ture, with the fly-specked window-panes, with 
other signs of her neglect which stared at him so 
often from obscure, nooks and corners. 

She was taken by surprise and attempted to 
thrust the book beneath her chair, but he seized 
it from her hand and turned the pages with a grow- 


240 THE FIGHTING BISHOP 

ing contempt which culminated in a scornful 
laugh. He had never stopped to consider whether 
he had married beneath him, in point of 
family. His wife’s claims to social experience had 
first impressed and then irritated him, but he 
could not view her with the eyes of the banker’s 
wife. The little book he held in his hand was 
like a light breaking in upon him. The cheap- 
ness and vulgarity of the thing were apparent, 
even to his rough nature. The solid studies he had 
striven in vain to master had nevertheless left 
their residuum of culture. He knew that even 
his little sister would not waste her time over such 
nonsense as this. 

^^Dreams!” he burst forth, derisively. ^^An 
^Egyptian Dream-Book,’ with a love-sick lady on 
the cover! An American cook-book would do you 
more good. Where did you get this ?” 

Without waiting for a reply he opened the win- 
dow and threw it out. 

She sprang from her chair with a cry of mortifi- 
cation and rage and ran out to find it. When 
she came back she began to justify herself pas- 
sionately. In spite of his rudeness she was on the 
defensive. She felt called on to explain that 
there was more in dreams than he, in his stupidity, 
could imagine. He stooped and lifted the baby 
from the floor. 

^^She never dreamed of the condition you’re in, 


TOM ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS 


241 


poor youngster. It would be a fine thing if she 
would dream of us two sometimes, wouldn’t it?” 

His bitter joke took possession of him. 

^^Tell her to dream the dinner on the, table, and 
to dream that your clothes are clean, just to see if 
it comes true.” 

The contempt was more than she could bear. 

^^Brute!” she screamed. “Give me my baby, 
my poor little Lionel! How glad I am I didn’t 
name him after you ! Trying to turn him against 
his mother! Fortunately he doesn’t understand 
you !” 

She snatched the child from him and ran up 
stairs to her room. As she did not return, he ate 
his supper alone. He did not deign to ask her to 
share it with him, but sent the girl to tell her when 
he had finished. He hurried out to the porch that 
he might not meet her as she descended the stairs. 

The evening was warm and he sat in his shirt- 
sleeves, his chair tilted against the house, and his 
sweet corncob pipe in his mouth. One of the hired 
men slouched up to the steps and sat down to talk 
politics, punctuating his remarks with the juice of 
his quid. 

Suddenly Tom straightened up and his com- 
panion rose to his feet, for the Bishop came riding 
by on his horse. He called his son to him. Tom 
went slowly out to the road and stood stroking 
the horse’s nose while his father spoke of matters 


242 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


connected with the management of the farm. 
Einallj he added : 

was pained, my son, to see yon sitting at yonr 
front door in your shirt-sleeves, talking to a ser- 
vant. You must remember who you are. Your 
position is an honorable one, if you only choose to 
make it so. Is there anything I can do for you 
that I haven’t done?” 

His question referred solely to the time follow- 
ing Tom’s marriage, and he had indeed done what 
he could since then. But his son’s mind went far- 
ther back. He gave his father one swift and stony 
look. A stormy smile flickered on his lips. There 
was so much to say, and complaint was so use- 
less that he remained silent. But the Bishop 
understood. He could not see the smile in the 
deepening twilight, but the silence was eloquent. 
A strange uneasiness seized him. If his son had 
accused him then and there of cruelty, misman- 
agement, and self-righteousness, he would have sat 
as a culprit before his judge. He knew now what 
he had done. If his son had sinned, the punish- 
ment was too great. In his self-will and sense- 
less chivalry toward a wicked woman he had con- 
demned the boy to a life-long horror. Some gossip 
concerning Anna’s conduct during his year’s ab- 
sence had lately come to his ears. What if the 
child he had made Tom father were not his, 
after all ? He spoke again, almost in a panic. 


TOM ASSERTS HIS EIGHTS 


243 


^^Yoh must come and see us oftener in the even- 
ings. Bring Anna and the baby. You must think 
of the old place as home always.” 

He rode quickly away, striving to recover his 
former point of view which had made his action 
on that fatal wedding-day seem the result of right- 
eous indignation. Strive as he could, the sinister 
doubt returned. Why had he taken this woman’s 
word against his son’s? He felt contaminated 
in his own flesh, and a cold sweat broke out upon 
him. When he entered the dining-room his face 
was the face of a man who has seen a ghost. 

Tom stood looking down the road until his fa- 
ther disappeared. He remembered a punishment 
he had once read of, the sinner tied in a bag with 
a wild animal and thrown into the sea to fight 
blindly till death. 

^^That’s what he’s done to me,” he muttered. 

He returned to the porch and found that his 
guest had gone. Indoors, his wife resumed the 
study of her dream-book by the light of the lamp. 
He made no motion to enter the house and hoped 
she would not come out. Far away against the 
western horizon the willows of the swamp drooped 
darkly, and the incessant clamor of the frogs rose 
from the black depths. Tom was just past twenty- 
one, but he felt like an old man who could look 
back on a long and stormy career. He had tried so 
many times, he thought, to do what was right, but 


244 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


it was no use. He began to feel tbe stirring in bis 
heart of another quest for happiness. The woman 
sitting there with her silly book could not hold him 
in this misery forever. He would leave her for his 
father to take care of. The thought filled him with 
wretched, silent laughter. Then he remembered 
his baby, and a sudden pain shot through his heart. 
He could not leave him to her. She did not love 
him. It was this that made him hate her most. 

Two figures came darkly down the road and 
paused at the gate. 

^^Hello, Tom Gus shouted. ^Hs that you ? Did 
you know there was going to be a big Kepublican 
rally to-morrow night in town? All the Eail- 
splittersdl be there. We’ll go up together, hey?” 

Tom jumped to his feet. ^Wou just bet we. will !” 
he cried. 

Basil felt that there was something more in- 
tense than political conviction behind this excite- 
ment, and his heart ached with sympathy. It 
seemed to him that his sister-in-law scarcely be- 
longed to the same sex as Imogen, and a realiza- 
tion of the difference between Tom’s lot and his 
own impelled him to keep his brother constantly 
under his unobtrusive care. 

During the talk which followed on the porch 
Anna remained obstinately within the house. Hone 
of the three thought of her, and her name was not 
mentioned. She tip-toed to the window and 


TOM ASSEBTS HIS BIGHTS 


245 


croHclied listening for some words of complaint 
from her husband, bnt she failed to get the pro- 
verbial reward of the eavesdropper. 

At last, when they had bidden one another good- 
night, Tom entered the house with lagging steps, 
knowing well the scene that awaited him. His ex- 
pectation was realized. First, coolness, and re- 
marks concerning his brutality addressed to the 
child who lay sleeping, rosy and unconscious, on 
the floor. Answering taunts from Tom rekindled 
the Are of wrath. The baby awoke and cried while 
his parents exchanged shameful gibes, and let him 
lie. Finally, from sheer exhaustion, the woman 
broke down first and grew plaintive over the loss 
of her husband’s love. Then came, the explana- 
tions that explained nothing ; tears ; the reconcilia- 
tion. 

After such a scene Anna was always oppres- 
sively loving. She asked him a hundred times 
if he loved her, and a hundred times he perjured 
himself with what show of warmth he could sum- 
mon. She could still appeal to his passions, but 
if he had ever entertained an illusion concern- 
ing a more spiritual attraction it was now gone 
forever. She insisted upon playing the role of a 
romantic girl, who had quarreled with her lover, 
and wearily he tried to match her mood. His re- 
lief was great when she sprang from his arms 
and proposed in a sprightly and coquettish man- 


246 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


ner to read to him from the dream book, affirming 
that she would yet make him a convert. He list- 
ened awhile indifferently. 

^Het’s drop it/’ he said. ^^I’m sick of the whole 
subject.” 

She put the book away obediently, and he con- 
tinued with some hesitation; 

^^IVe been thinking lately, Anna, that if w© 
read a chapter from the Bible every night we 
might get along better. If this keeps on I don’t 
know what we’ll come to. There’s the Bible father 
gave me ; I never opened it. Let’s begin and read 
it through, one chapter each night. Hever mind 
the prayers and hymns, you know. I’m no great 
hand at praying.” 

She welcomed the plan with a delight in which 
there was a touch of patronizing congratulation. 
She did not realize hoTV much of hereditary influ- 
ence was stirring within him. He did not believe 
greatly in religion, yet he was superstitious in 
regard to family worship. His father had often 
said that the day should begin and end in this 
way ; that only thus could they hope to keep their 
feet from stumbling on their earthly pilgrimage. 
If the old man were right it was just as well to be 
on the safe side. 

To Anna, however, his words were an indication 
of repentance and conversion. She knew from 
her own emotions upon the mourners’ bench in the 


TOM ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS 


247 


past just how he must feel. She had continued 
to read the Bible by herself and to wrestle in 
prayer alone ; but now, she said, she would read to 
him. She would pray, too, for them both. She 
ran to get the book, and then seated herself by the 
lamp and began to turn the pages. 

^^Where shall I begin?” she asked, looking up 
with a smile. 

^^Hold on !” he cried, reaching out his hand and 
taking the book from her. ^^Did you ever hear my 
mother read the Bible aloud ?” 

^^Why, yes,” she answered in astonishment. 

^^In family prayers, when father or Seeb was 
home ?” he persisted. She shook her head. 

^^Of course not!” he said triumphantly. ^^And 
why ? Because every man is the priest of his own 
family, and it isn’t right for a woman to conduct 
the services. It says so somewhere in the Bible. 
I’ll do the reading myself.” 

With these words he drew his chair to the 
lamp and turned solemnly to the first chapter of 
Genesis. ' 


CHAPTEE XXII 


THE KAIL-SPLITTERS'' POWWOW 

The Eepublican rally was the largest demon- 
stration of the kind Toledo had ever witnessed. 
The first part of the campaign had been distinctly 
educational. The Douglas and Lincoln debates 
of 1858 were circulated by the party managers and 
left to speak for themselves. In spite of the capi- 
tal made out of the Eepublican standard-bearePs 
early obscurity, he appealed more to the reason 
of his followers than to their love of glory. As 
yet there was no such personal idolatry as had 
been given in the past to Jackson, and Clay, and 
^^Tippecanoe.” 

Xo less a man than Oglesby, the friend of Lin- 
coln, was to address the meeting, and the Eail- 
splitters were out in full force. 

As soon as it began to grow dark they assembled 
at the lower end of Summit Street, down by the 
canal, and began the march to the large wooden 
^Vigwam’’ near Cherry and Superior. At the 
head of the procession moved a dray drawn by 
four sturdy Xorman draft-horses, their manes 
adorned with patriotic ribbons, gay for once in 
248 


THE RAIE-SPLITTEES^ POWWOW 249 . 

their laborious lives. A sheet stretched between 
two poles displayed in large letters the slogan 
of the party: ^Tree speech, free men, free homes, 
free territory.” Four torches illuminated the plat- 
form, and there in the full glare stood Tom and 
Gus, coatless, hatless and perspiring, making a 
great show of splitting a pile of rails. Gus was ex- 
cited and happy, but Tom was glorious. He had 
been drinking to the success of Lincoln and the 
confusion of all Democrats and his face shone. He 
answered the jests of the crowd that surged along 
the sidewalk with good-natured retorts, and looked 
proudly back over the long line of tossing torches, 
as if he were a victorious general leading a tri- 
umph up the Sacred Way. At every bump of the 
dray on the loose plank pavement he lurched 
jauntily this way or that, smiling, singing snatches 
of song, and burying his bright axe in the wood 
with a skill that was proof even against such un- 
favorable conditions. 

Basil, in his white oilcloth cap and cape, and 
bearing his torch aloft, was following not far be- 
hind. He had tried in vain to dissuade his brothers 
from playing their present part in the procession, 
but Tom’s stimulated enthusiasm would not be de- 
nied, and Gus, as usual, followed his lead. Basil 
kept his anxious gaze fixed upon them. He knew 
his father had not returned home when they left, 
and it was possible he was still in the city. His 


250 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


anxiety was so great that he began to look to right 
and left and forgot to take part in the song his 
comrades were singing, an adaptation of ^^Dixie,’^ 
the latest popular negro melody. 

Suddenly, as if conjured into existence by his 
apprehensions, he saw the Bishop’s tall silk hat 
towering above the jostling rabble on the sidewalk. 
The old man was looking steadily at his two sons 
on the dray, and at nothing else. Basil was only 
one of the procession, and his visored cap was 
also a disguise. His father never glanced in his 
direction, but strode wrathfully on, unconsciously 
keeping step to the steady pounding of the big 
drum in the van. 

He had come upon the scene only a few mo- 
ments before Basil saw him, but soon he was recog- 
nized by hundreds. As the crowd took in the situ- 
ation their appreciation showed itself in a great 
burst of laughter and cheers. 

^^Hello there, Tom !” some one shouted. ^^Here’s 
your father. Give the old man a lift !” 

Tom heard and turned to look. As he met his 
father’s eye the silly smile faded from his lips and 
his jaw dropped. Gus also stopped chopping and 
turned as if to jump from the dray. The crowd 
howled with delight. Even Basil shook with ner- 
vous laughter. But Tom’s dismay was only mo- 
mentary. Again he lifted his axe and buried it 
deep in a rail with drunken bravado. 


THE RAIL-SPLITTERS^ POWWOW 251 

^^That’s all right, boys !” he cried. ^Tree coun- 
try! ISTo harm done!’\ 

Gus, drawing courage from despair and from 
his brother’s bright example, followed suit. 

^^Hoo-ray!” screamed the crowd. ^^Good for 
Tom Ambrose !” Then came a running fire of com- 
ments, of which the Bishop was apparently as un- 
conscious as if he were deaf. At the very door 
of the wigwam some young fellows tried to jostle 
.him. He raised his cane and sent the hat of the 
nearest rough spinning from his head. The rest 
shrank back, for he stood among them like a wrath- 
ful and avenging Jupiter. Some laughed and ap- 
plauded ; others cursed and threatened ; but none 
dared close in on him. The Bishop would will- 
ingly have done battle with them all. 

^^A little taste of the Church militant for you, 
sir!” he shouted, as the recipient of the blow 
scrambled for his hat and then edged away. ^^A 
little muscular Christianity for you, you young 
rascal ! Let that teach you better manners !” 

Then he made straight for the dray. 

^^Come down from there!” he commanded, 
sternly. ^ ^You’ve made fools of yourselves long 
enough.” 

Some few gathered about to see what would 
happen, but the majority poured into the hall to 
scramble for seats and left the Ambrose family to 
settle their difficulties by themselves. Tom reached 


252 


THE EIGHTIKG BISHOP 


for his hat and coat and came down slowly, fol- 
lowed by his brother. The excitement of the 
meeting with his father had sobered him com- 
pletely, and his mind was made np. 

^^What do yon want he demanded steadily, 
want yon to come home with me at once,” 
his father replied in a peremptory tone. ^TVe 
had enongh of this folly.” 

^^Bnt I haven’t,” his son answered deliberately. 

was twenty-one years old last Wednesday. I’m 
my own master now. I’m a Kepnblican, and I’m 
going to this meeting !” 

They measnred each other a moment with their 
eyes. Then the Bishop knew that he mnst yield. 
At all events, he wonld prevent fnrther disgracefnl 
condnct. 

^^Then I’ll go with yon,” he declared. ^^Come, 
we’ll all go in together.” 

The fonr entered the wigwam and sat near the 
center in a body. Few noticed their entrance. 
All eyes were tnrned toward the stage, where the 
chairman stood ponnding vigoronsly with his 
gavel and trying to make himself heard above the, 
babel. 

The chairman was Cornelins Van Dam, sprnce 
and prosperons-looking as ever. His former popn- 
larity had snffered an eclipse, bnt he was gradnally 
emerging from the shadow. It was throngh his 
efforts that the speaker of the evening had been 


THE EAIL-SPLITTEES" POWWOW 253 


secured. It was one of his bids for the popular 
favor he wished to recover. He had resigned 
his wardenship of the Church bj letter, and the 
Bishop had not seen him since that Sunday when 
he passed him by. 

When y an Dam saw the Bishop in the audience 
he was disconcerted for a moment, but he quickly 
recovered himself and announced in a neat and 
appropriate speech the speaker of the evening, 
Kichard J. Oglesby, the friend of ^^Honest Abe.’’ 

Mr. Oglesby’s speech was a sober and reasonable 
argument in favor of restricting slavery to the 
states in which it then existed. He was not a 
^^negro worshiper,” as the abolitionists were 
called, but he believed that the time had come to 
take a moral stand, be the consequences what they 
might. The tone of his speech was not such as to 
arouse the passion of sectional prejudice. After 
the argument he passed on to speak of the personal 
qualifications of Abraham Lincoln; his homely 
wisdom, his early trials, his quaint humor. As 
he painted the picture of the candidate’s boyhood 
the audience was aroused to an enthusiasm which 
the statement of principles had failed to elicit. 
To most of them the story suggested familiar home 
pictures, and they laughed and commented audi- 
bly. When the right moment had arrived the ora- 
tor beckoned an old man who sat in the front 
row to come up to the stage. As he stood beside 


■ 254 ' 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


the speaker, facing the wondering audience, they 
could see that he was bent with toil. He shifted 
uneasily from one foot to the other and looked 
down with a vague smile. 

^^This man,’’ said Mr. Oglesby, ^^is a Democrat 
who worked with Abraham Lincoln thirty years 
ago ; but this year he’s going to vote the Republi- 
can ticket.” 

He turned to the embarrassed backwoodsman. 
^^How, John Hanks, in the presence of this great 
company, I askyou,didyou not split three thousand 
rails with Abe Lincoln in Macon County on the 
Sangamon River, and navigate a flat-boat from 
near old Salem to Hew Orleans ?” 

^^We certainly did,” the other said; ^Ve cer- 
tainly did.” He made haste to descend from the 
platform. Men crowded about him to shake the 
hand that had split rails with Abe Lincoln, while 
the building rang with applause. The Ambrose 
boys joined in the uproar, in spite of the presence 
of their father. 

The Bishop sat silent, a sarcastic smile playing 
about the corners of his mouth. He appreciated 
the skill of the speech from a professional point of 
view; the calm and logical beginning, the felici- 
tous anecdotes, the final convincing object lesson. 

^‘Very good,” he muttered. ‘^A very good ex- 
ample of ad captandum/* 

After the tumult had subsided Van Dam rose 


THE EAIL-SPLITTERS^ POWWOW 265 

to his feet. He was well trained in the art of speak- 
ing, and his utterances were usually conservative ; 
hut now he seemed to he laboring under a strange 
excitement. All the wise and moderate things had 
been said, and if he were to add anything new 
it must he of a more sensational character. Per- 
haps, also, a knowledge of his unpopularity im- 
pelled him to say all the more emphatically what 
he thought would appeal to the many-headed. But 
the final touch of daring was inspired by the pres- 
ence of the Bishop. 

There sat the man who had crushed him. 
During all his life he had felt that heavy 
hand. In his boyhood the Bishop had laid 
the whip on his back; in his manhood he had 
dogged him at every step as one who had a right. 
Finally he had made an absurd and impossible 
demand, and had punished his refusal by pitilessly 
rejecting him at the Communion rail, as if he were 
accursed. This was the way the relationship had 
come to present itself to his mind after a long dis- 
cussion with his wife. His own impulse had been 
all for yielding; but he had feared to tell the 
Bishop, on the one hand, that he dared not and 
could not oppose his wife, and he. feared to confide 
in her, on the other hand, the secret anguish of his 
soul. Only a fortnight had passed since the rup- 
ture, but to Van Dam it seemed years. The 
Bishop had tried to answer his letter of resignation 


256 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


in person. He Lad gone to the Louse to explain and 
to forgive, and even to be forgiven ; but entrance 
was denied Lim. He did not yet dream that tLe 
breach was final, but so it was. How, as tLe banker 
faced Lim, Le felt Lis opportunity to declare Lis 
resentment and emancipation. On this subject, as 
on every other, Le would oppose the Bishop to the 
death. 

Mr. Oglesby Lad made no mention of the pos- 
sibility of a war, and it was this possibility which 
Van Dam saved for Lis final and most effective 
appeal. He stated that threats of secession in the 
event of Lincoln’s election were openly made in 
the South. Going back to the time of Calhoun, Le 
enumerated the long series of humiliations which 
had been put upon the Horth; the Missouri Com- 
promise ; the Dred Scott decision ; the opprobrious 
epithets flung at the heads of the defenders of free- 
dom by men whose attitude was like that of the 
feudal lords of the Middle Ages. As he pro- 
ceeded the tense interest of his audience attested 
his success. The feeling was too deep for ap- 
plause ; but men sat with clenched fists, muttering 
angry oaths. 

Van Dam was intoxicated by his success. Hever 
before had he played the demagogue, and the un- 
usual sense of power carried him away. Suddenly 
he found himself speaking with passionate con- 
tempt of those who enjoyed the blessed freedom 


THE EAIL-SPLITTEES^ POWWOW 257 

from oppression wliicli tlie ITortli gave them and 
were jet in favor of allowing others to he ground 
down bj ^^the iron heel of despotism.” 

^^And these men,” he cried, ^^profess that their 
attitude is due to Christian humility! They cry 
peace, peace, when there is no peace, and quote 
scripture for their purposes I 'No wonder they call 
us %ud sills’ and ^dough faces !’ ” 

A low hiss began to he heard in the hall, and 
the Bishop knew it was meant for him. He. gave 
no sign of having heard that meanest and most ma- 
lignant of human sounds, hut kept his eyes fixed 
upon the speaker as if he would slay him with 
their indignant fire. But the hanker reverted to 
the prospect of war with even more uncompromis- 
ing defiance. He became reckless and threw all 
considerations to the wind except the desire to 
carry his hearers with him. 

The high-flown phrases of the college-debating 
club, which his maturer judgment had long since 
rejected, came hack instinctively to his tongue, 
clothed with full value, did he but know it, by the 
majesty of the impending crisis. Once more he 
unfurled the ^^starry banner.” The Horth was ^^a 
slumbering lion,” and her freemen would ^^rise 
in their might as the sea in its fury, when navies 
are stranded.” 

He sat down, exhausted. The audience rose, 
moved by uncontrollable enthusiasm. The Bishop 


258 


THE FIGHTIlira BISHOP 


and liis sons, too, had risen. Basil’s one desire was 
to get his father to leave the hall. 

sir !” the old man protested fiercely. ^^I’ll 
not he driven out ! I’ll not sneak away and leave 
him unanswered. Let me go!” 

He started for the platform, dividing the strug- 
gling mass. His hoys were at his heels. They had 
seen the little fracas in the street and meant to 
stand by him now. Tom, even more than Basil, 
was ready with his fist in case of trouble. He 
would have asked nothing better than a rough and 
tumble fight for the honor of the Ambrose family. 

In spite of the tumult, however, there was no 
real danger of violence. Some of those present 
were the Bishop’s own parishioners, and the worst 
the unruly element intended was jostling and 
jeers. Even so, it was an encounter fit to stagger 
the courage of any one but that splendid and sav- 
age old man. When he finally cleared the crowd 
and ascended the platform the uproar was so great 
that for some minutes he could not make himself 
heard. Part of the noise came from those who 
were bitterly opposed to him, and had no desire to 
see fair play, and a smaller part consisted of the 
shouts of his admirers; but perhaps the greatest 
uproar came from the younger roughs of the town, 
who were actuated by no more serious passion than 
a spirit of mischief and a desire for a good time. 
Curiosity, and the efforts of the older men, at 


THE EAIL-SPLITTEES'’ POWWOW 259 

length prevailed. Soon the Bishop’s voice, swelling 
like a trumpet, began to he heard, and the noise 
subsided into occasional cat-calls and side remarks. 
It was like the scattered spluttering that follows 
the explosion of a bunch of fire-crackers. 

^^This young man,” he was saying, ^Vhose fa- 
ther was my dearest friend, whom I brought up 
almost as one of my own sons, and to whom I 
looked for that affection and loyalty which the 
teacher expects from his pupil, and the bishop 
from his parishioner, but, most of all, which we 
of the older generation look for from the strong 
young fellows who are rapidly growing up to finish 
the work we must lay aside so soon. 

^Tellow citizens, I am an old man. I came to 
this town before most of you were, born ; but I see 
some here with whom I shared the burden and 
heat of the day. We blazed a way through the 
forest and labored to turn the wilderness into 
a land of plenty. I can remember the time when 
Indians camped on the very ground where this 
building now stands, and when it was not safe to 
travel here unarmed. I saw this town in its in- 
fancy and helped in its organization, and from 
that time to this I have ever had its best interests, 
as I saw them, at heart. 

^^Many of you have done me the honor to dis- 
approve of my views on various subjects, but I 
hope I have yet to see the day when I shall be 


260 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


denied tlie right of free speech among you, a 
right dear to the heart of every American, and 
which I saw to-night written on your party ban- 
ner.” 

A scattering applause greeted these words, and 
cries of ^^Hear, hear !” ^^Thafs right !” ^^Give the 
Bishop a show!” A wag in the hack of the room 
shouted : ^Tretty good for an Englishman !” 

The Bishop smiled good-naturedly. ^^Yes,” he 
retorted, ^^an Englishman from Dublin, which 
happens to he the city of my birth. If my friend 
in the hack of the room will attend my school we 
shall endeavor to teach him something about geog- 
raphy.” 

In the laughter that followed this counter-stroke 
the ill-will of the audience was swept away. The 
Bishop was not slow to see his opportunity. 

donT know what my friend means by call- 
ing me an Englishman. If he stopped to con- 
sider he might discover that he was almost as much 
an Englishman as I am. He might recognize his 
debt to English law, and English speech, and the 
English Bible. I do not say that England has al- 
ways treated us fairly, but I believe the time will 
come when we shall appreciate our common heri- 
tage and dwell together in unity. The attitude of 
the older country will come to be like that of 
Abraham toward Lot: ^Let there be no strife be- 
tween me and thee, I pray thee, for we are breth- 


THE RAIL-SPLITTERS^ POWWOW 2G1 

ren.’ The children of one family may quarrel, but, 
after all, the ties of blood will stand a strain which 
no other ties could endure without breaking. 

‘^And if this is true in the case of England, how 
much more ought it to he true in our own country ! 
I have heard some wild talk to-night of war be- 
tween the ISTorth and South, and I wish to enter 
here my solemn protest against any such utter- 
ances. It may he true that threats of disunion 
have been made in the South, hut I do not believe 
that any such result will follow a Eepuhlican vic- 
tory. I hear you cry that the Eepuhlican victory, 
at all events, is assured. I hope not; but if it is, 
I shall submit cheerfully to the will of the major- 
ity, as I have done in the past, and I believe the 
South will submit, as it has always done. I be- 
lieve the memory of our common struggle against 
tyranny will rise up between us like an angel of 
peace and prevent a fratricidal war. 

^^But even if the South does declare war, I be- 
lieve that at the very moment when the two armies 
stand drawn up against each other the thought of 
those other battles which their fathers fought side 
by side will bid them pause. They will throw down 
their arms and return every man to his home. 
Their prayer then will he that of Abraham: ^Let 
there be no strife between me and thee, I pray 
thee, for we are brethren.’ 

^^As for myself,” he continued, after a pause, 


262 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


^^jOH know me to be a Democrat, and you know 
that I favor slavery. I Have expressed my views 
upon that subject and am not here to repeat them. 
I merely wish to remind you in self-defense that 
I no more approve of the abuses of slavery than 
does the strongest abolitionist. I have not been 
able to see in the violent abolition of slavery a solu- 
tion of the problem. It seems to me that such a 
course would raise even greater difficulties. The 
cure, would be worse than the disease. I see that 
few of you are abolitionists ; it is the extension of 
slavery only that most of you oppose. Let me sug- 
gest a simple and effective remedy. If, with the 
extension of slavery, we have at the same time an 
extension of Christ’s kingdom upon earth we shall 
hear no more of cruel masters and runaway ne- 
groes. Christ instructed servants to obey their 
masters and masters to be kind to their servants. 
^Let not the strong man glory in his strength,’ but 
let him use it wisely and care for the helpless. Is 
this an impracticable remedy ? If so, then Chris- 
tianity itself is impracticable. The very obvious- 
ness of the thing has caused its rejection by those 
who are too wise in their own conceit to see the 
wisdom of love. 

^^And one thing more. It has been intimated 
that I favor the South, even that I might favor 
the disruption of the Union. What logic would 
there be in such a position, if I should assume it ? 


THE EAIL-SPLITTEES^ POWWOW 263 

It is just because I believe in the principle of a 
beneficent authority that I believe also in a strong 
centralized government. A house divided against 
itself will fall, and a nation divided against itself 
cannot endure. We have read how the Greeks fell 
a prey to their enemies when they failed to stand 
together against Philip of Macedon, and how the 
Israelites were carried into captivity and sat down 
by the waters of Babylon to weep when they no 
longer stood shoulder to shoulder, and when they 
forgot the God of their fathers. The lesson is 
plain. Let us have no more talk of war. God 
works in a mysterious way. We cannot see the end, 
confused and perplexed as we are by the present 
difficulties, but I believe that no less surely He is 
working out His will, and in His own good time 
He will bring it to pass ; not by the shock of battle 
and the shedding of brothers’ blood, but by the 
gradual education of the people to a fuller and 
better understanding of His gospel of love.” 

When he finished speaking and left the plat- 
form there was no applause. He was no longer the 
champion of the Church militant, the fierce old 
man loving the excitement of conflict, but the be- 
nign and venerable Bishop, the shepherd of the 
people. So complete was the change he had wrought 
that if he had raised his hands and blessed them 
the act would have seemed a fitting conclusion to 
his words. 


CHAPTEK XXIII 


THE FIEST GUH 

^^Tom asked me to tell you that he wouldn’t be 
back until he returned ; there’s so much going on 
in town. Everyone’s wild about Port Sumter. 
Major Anderson surrendered this morning, and 
there’s going to be a war !” 

The speaker was Cecily. She sat in Anna’s 
kitchen, looking very dainty in her Sunday 
clothes, her color finer than usual under the stress 
of excitement. Her sister-in-law paused in her 
languid movements and sank gracefully into a 
chair. She surveyed her nails critically a moment 
and then said : 

“So much the less work for me to do. I declare, 
you can’t trust anybody ! To think of my servant 
going ofi just at this time, when I wanted to go to 
town and see what’s happening! These country girls 
are so independent I They want to sit at the table 
and be called “help,” and then they leave you in the 
lurch whenever the whim takes them. I’ve been 
three days now without a servant, and my hands 
are being ruined. But tell me about it.” 

Anna’s little elegances were a household jest, 
264 


THE FIRST GUN 


265 


but Cecily was too full of her news to observe the 
egotism that put polished finger nails before a 
great national crisis. 

^^Hardly any one went to church/’ she contin- 
ued. ^^There was such a crowd in front of the 
^Blade’ that we had to drive around by St. Clair 
Street, and such shouting and swearing you never 
saw ! Mother cried all the way home ; she’s afraid 
Bas and Tom’ll enlist. They both stayed in town. 
And you should have heard Seeb’s sermon on ^He 
teacheth my hands to war !’ I wish I was a man; 
I’d go. Guess I’ll go as a nurse anyhow. I’ll ask 
father about it when he comes home.” 

^T’ve, no doubt he’ll let you,” Anna said, mildly 
sarcastic. She never quite dared to cross swords 
with Cecily. She rose and seasoned the mixture 
on the stove. Her baby pulled at her skirt and 
whimpered for attention. 

^^Oh, let me alone, Lionel!” she cried, petu- 
lantly. ^^You’re always under my feet!” The 
push she gave him caused him to sit down sud- 
denly on the floor, where he remained, staring up 
at his mother in silence with what appeared to be 
a sense of injury. 

^^You don’t seem to care very much whether 
Tom enlists or not,” Cecily remarked. would 
care if I was married.” 

^Wait till he does enlist,” the other retorted, 
sharply. ^Then it will be time enough to talk 


266 


THE FIGIITIHG BISHOP 


about it. But he won’t. He couldn’t go and 
leave babj and me. There are enough men for 
the war without his going.” 

^^Why don’t you take better care of Helly ?” her 
persecutor resumed. ^^What a sight she is, sitting 
there ! I couldn’t pick her up without spoiling my 
dress.” 

Little Lionel had already become an uncon- 
scious victim of the family mania for nick-names. 
Birst it was ^^Hel,” then ^^Helly,” and now the 
pronouns ^Ber” and ^^she” were applied to him. 
His mother had named him from a favorite hero 
in a novel, and this liberty with a name which 
she had chosen so fondly was always a peculiar 
annoyance. 

^^Hobody asked you to pick him up !” she cried. 
^^Or to call him names, either, poor child!” She 
seized him and hugged him frantically. As if he 
comprehended the insult which had been offered 
to his baby manhood, he began to wail dismally. 

“There,” his mother continued. ■ “You see what 
you’ve done. I hope you’re satisfied now!” But 
Cecily had disappeared. 

Anna ate her dinner leisurely, reading a novel 
meanwhile. She left the dishes unwashed, and 
after giving the baby his dinner and putting him 
to bed she began to dress herself before the mirror 
in her room. 

She was glad to be alone and did not intend 


THE FIRST GUH 


267 


to go up to the large house and talk things over 
with Mrs. Ambrose. Once more romance took pos- 
session of her heart. It was no new thing with her 
to think disloyally of her husband, but up to this 
time she had not been able to see a way out of the 
net she had woven for herself. It was all very 
well to be the Bishop’s daughter, but she had got 
the wrong son. How brutal and stupid Tom 
was ! If he only would enlist. Something might 
happen to him and then she would be free once 
more. After all, she was still young and good- 
looking. 

She bared her drooping shoulders and posed 
gracefully before the glass. They were undeniably 
pretty ; but how seldom she had a chance to show 
them ! She did up her hair in various ways, trying 
now this ribbon, now that, with as much solicitude 
as if she were going to a ball, while her imagina- 
tion grew warm and her eyes brightened with 
thoughts of past pleasures and hopes for the fu- 
ture. Einally she took from a secret corner a small 
box of rouge and some black lead which she usually 
kept concealed in fear of her husband’s boisterous 
scorn. She deftly traced her eyebrows and col- 
ored her cheeks, just for the pleasure of doing it. 
While she dabbed some white rose perfume with 
her handkerchief upon her temples her thoughts 
reverted to Cecily’s vivid type of beauty. 

^^She’s going to be a huge, fat, red-faced woman, 


268 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


bossing everybody around,” sbe said aloud. By 
contrast sbe felt mucb more ethereal and winning. 

^^I’d like to have just one more cbance,”sbe mur- 
mured. wouldn’t throw it away again.” 

Imperceptibly the afternoon slipped by, and 
the far western sun warned her that sbe might ex- 
pect Tom’s return. Eegretfully sbe washed her 
face and finished her toilet. Then she took a novel 
and sat in a rocking-chair on the porch, leaving 
the baby still asleep on the bed. The. book she was 
reading, ^The Children of the Abbey,” could no 
longer hold her interest. She forgot the love af- 
fairs of the beauteous Amanda and fell to day- 
dreaming of those which might still fall to herself. 
Her mood became poetical and musingly melan- 
cholic. It had been a happy afternoon for her. 

Anna had no growing intellectual interests to 
take the place of the fiirtations of youth. Her 
actions toward men always showed that she felt 
the difference in sex to be an important and de- 
licious fact. She could no more get rid of that 
attitude of mind than she could add a cubit to her 
stature. Her first husband had ceased to care for 
her before his death ; for when he saw her using 
the same little tricks with other men that she had 
employed to catch him he fell back upon him- 
self in coldness and disgust. In Tom she had met 
her counterpart from the strictly sex point of view. 
Bach had read the other’s eye unerringly and 


THE FIEST GTJH 


269 . 


found the attraction irresistible. I^ow that they 
were married there was no comradeship between 
them. They understood each other well, and each 
knew that the other reveled in disloyal thoughts 
and lacked only the opportunity to indulge in dis- 
loyal action. 

The very things in Anna which had attracted 
Tom most now filled him with peculiar irritation ; 
the dash of rouge, the stenciled eyebrow, the co- 
quettish ribbon, the suggestion of perfume, the 
affected gesture, the display of her small foot. 
They now seemed only contemptible little tricks, 
and he hated them even while he felt their attrac- 
tion. Above all, he resented her scorn of mother- 
hood and housekeeping. Each knew how to make 
the other jealous, hut she was more experienced in 
the game than he and could inflict a subtler sting. 
Sometimes he yielded again to the old spell, hut 
such a surrender was always followed by a mood 
of resentment and brutality. The reading in the 
Bible had become more and more spasmodic, and 
was now entirely a thing of the past. 

In spite of the low level to which their life to- 
gether had sunk, Anna felt sure that she could 
keep Tom at home if she wished to do so. She 
had no such desire, however. She wished to make 
him enlist while seeming to oppose it, as decency 
required ; she wanted to get rid of him gracefully 
and still reserve for herself all the, emotional ex- 


270 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


periences to whicli the circHmstances entitled her. 
It occurred to her mind that Basil could be made 
an element in accomplishing her purpose. She 
had always resented his indifference toward her. 
He was the kind of man she detested ; a man who 
could be so devoted to one girl that all others were 
of no more moment than so many pictures on the 
wall. When she encountered his eyes she saw that 
his glance was impersonal. He made no effort 
to talk with her, and she could not fail to observe 
that her remarks seemed to him as insignificant as 
the prattle of a child. His coldness was the very 
strongest condemnation and enraged her accord- 
ingly. If he would only quarrel with her it would 
be a compliment, but she saw that he did not 
consider even that worth while. 

She sometimes twitted her husband on his devo- 
tion to Basil and insinuated an absolute surrender 
to a stronger will. The taunt was the more irri- 
tating because of the sub-stratum of truth. She 
resolved that if Tom should be influenced by Basil 
in this case she would not hint at the fact, lest he' 
should prove his independence by backing out. 

The twilight deepened and the air grew colder. 
She went into the house and got a wrap ; then she. 
returned to her post on the porch and impatiently 
awaited her husband’s return. She had outlined 
her course, of action and was anxious to put it to 
the test. The evening mists rose from the 


THE EIKST GUH 


271 


marsh and the frogs began to trill their nightly 
song. As the persistent sound forced itself upon 
her attention she drew her shawl closer about her 
with an impatient motion. 

^^Good Lord!” she exclaimed. “Don’t talk to 
me about the country ; I hate it ! What wouldn’t I 
give to be in San Francisco once more. Just hear 
those creatures ! It’s enough to kill one with lone- 
liness. The idea of Tom’s mother leaving me here 
alone all the afternoon !” 

The crying of her baby aroused her. She found 
him toddling about in the darkened bedroom, 
whimpering with loneliness and fear. Without 
any tenderness she carried him down stairs. She 
lighted the lamp and gave him his supper in the 
kitchen. His satisfaction, his vague gestures of 
affection, made no appeal to her heart. What a 
burden he was ! 

Presently she heard the rattle of wheels in the 
yard and Basil’s voice : 

“We’ll go up early, then, to-morrow morning. 
You’ll have to tell her to-night.” 

She heard Tom enter the front door. He did not 
come to the kitchen, though he must have seen 
the light there. He was moving about in the front 
room, and presently he lighted a candle. Then, 
through the open door, she heard him mutter; 
“Where the devil did I leave it ? Ah, here it is.” 
The fragrant odor of the pipe drifted out; still 


272 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


she made no sign until he came and stood in the 
doorway. Then she looked up. 

^^Hello/’ he said, awkwardly. ^^Supper ready 

He took the baby and put him up on his shoul- 
der, as he sometimes did when in a playful mood. 
^^Get us something to eat, won’t you, Anna he 
suggested. 

^^You used to kiss me when you came home,” she 
remarked. ^^How all you think of is something to 
eat.” 

^^Confound it all!” he cried. ^^You used to 
run and kiss me. If I did kiss you you’d tell me 
not to muss your hair, or something or other. I’ve 
been in town all day. I’m hungry.” 

She guessed correctly the nature of the secret 
that was so obviously weighing on his mind, and 
was not averse to helping him begin. 

^^What a cross old Tom it is 1” she cried, play- 
fully, rising from her chair. ^Tt shall have some- 
thing to eat. The idea of It’s leaving me here alone 
all day, and then coming back and stamping 
around the house and demanding something to eat 
before It tells me the news ! But you must build 
the fire. My hands are already a sight with this 
kitchen work.” 

A retort rose to his lips, but he restrained it, 
moved by a sudden realization of their impending 
separation. Anna had given the tone of acting to 
their relationship, and they were affected. Tor 


THE FIEST GIJH 


273 


no explainaHe reason they scrnpnlonsly avoided 
touching each other, while he busied himself with 
the fire. Their rare moments of affection were not 
like the delicate moments between husband and 
wife. 

While she prepared his supper he amused him- 
self with the baby in the front room. They al- 
ways got on well together. He placed the child 
on the floor. 

^^You’re a pretty sturdy youngster, arenT you 
he demanded, poking him playfully in the ribs 
with the stem of his pipe. The baby squirmed 
and gurgled with delight. ^When are you going to 
begin smoking, hey? To think I was a little 
shaver like that, and now that IVe got one of my 
own, I don’t know how to bring it up, and she 
don’t know either, nor care, what’s worse. I’m 
going to make mother promise to care for you if I 
don’t come back.” 

His wife came in and began to set the table. 

^T’ll put the baby to bed,” he said, hurriedly, 
taking him up. ^T’ll be down in a minute.” 

In his father’s strong hands the child was al- 
ways tractable and he allowed himself to be carried 
up into the dark without protest. 

Tom was a long time gone. Anna finished set- 
ting the table, and put on the supper. Then she 
stepped to the foot of the stairs to call him. Her 
usual stealth of motion made her steps noiseless. 


274 THE FIGIITIHH BISHOP 

Instinctive also was her momentary pause to 
listen. Then she heard from the room above some- 
thing that caused her heart to stand still in sudden 
panic. It was the deep-drawn sob of a man in an- 
guish, and yet it was also the pathetic cry of a 
defeated and heart-broken boy. 

^^Much she cares. Poor little youngster ; asleep 
already! Maybe he’ll never remember his father. 
Maybe I’ll never see him again. So much the bet- 
ter; a pretty example I’d be to him!” 

Anna tiptoed away and called to him from the 
dining-room. 

^^All right,” he, answered, after a pause. ^^You 
go ahead and eat. I’ll be down in a minute.’ 

When he appeared his face showed traces of 
tears, and he sat down in silence. She forbore 
to disturb him while he ate, except to press him 
to take more of this or that. In spite of his dec- 
laration that he was hungry he ate only a few 
mouthfuls and then lighted his pipe once more. 
The time to speak had come, and he was not one to 
break news gently. He blew a great cloud of 
smoke. 

^^Anna,” he blurted out, ^T’m going to the war !” 

^^And leave me,” she cried, ^^and baby !” 

can’t help it,” he continued, doggedly. ^T’m 
going; so the less fuss you make over it the bet- 
ter.” 

The spell was broken. She rose and threw 


THE FIEST GUH 


275 


herself into his arms, with what emotion, or sim- 
ulated emotion, perhaps even she could not have 
told. His real farewell had already been taken 
by the side of his sleeping child in the dark little 
room up stairs, and he cared nothing for her ca- 
resses and tears. His passiveness was touched 
with patience. He told himself that there would 
be only a little more of such acting, and then free- 
dom. With great relief he heard his mother at 
the door. She came in, followed by Eusebius and 
Basil. 

Basil had come home with the news that was like 
the news of a death in the family, and his mother’s 
first passion of grief and protest was past. She 
had come to see if she could win from Tom what 
she had failed to win from her other son. 

^HVe been begging Tom not to go,” Anna cried, 
plaintively, ^Tut if he won’t listen to his wife I 
guess he won’t to his mother.” 

Her eyes met those of Eusebius fixed on her 
with a look of perfect understanding. 

^^Of course not,” he said, simply. Then he 
turned away abruptly. What did he see in her 
eyes that caused his pulse to leap? She was not 
ashamed that he had found her out. She was 
even glad, for a reason he dared not guess. 

In vain Mrs. Ambrose pleaded. Both had given 
their word, and they could not break it. Eusebius 
said, for the twentieth time, that there would prob- 


276 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


ably be no war at all ; and sbe tried to believe bim. 
When they finally led ber borne sbe bugged tbe 
scanty bope to ber heart and was, in a measure, 
comforted. 

Again Anna smothered ber husband with lov- 
ing attentions. His nature was not austere, and 
finally be yielded once more to ber power. Sbe 
no longer begged bim to change bis mind. It was 
characteristic of her that be appealed to ber now 
as a soldier, and sbe was thrilled by tbe touch of 
a man who was to fight, and perhaps die glorious- 
ly for bis country. 

Long after she bad fallen asleep be lay awake 
and thought of ber frantic phrases cynically, bow 
sbe bad called bim ber soldier boy and ber hero. 
Sbe now seemed a slight thing, be thought, as be 
watched ber bead, a shadow on tbe wLite pillow, 
dim in tbe starlight. 

Meanwhile, Eusebius, in bis little room above 
tbe school, bad a strange dream. He had lain 
awake long, battling with a new and terrible fear 
and haunted by tbe sinister invitation of those 
strange, blue eyes. But when be slept at last, it was 
not to dream of her. He thought be was in a bat- 
tle and that be pursued the enemy through tbe 
long streets of a town until be brought them to bay 
against tbe wall of a great grain elevator by tbe 
side of a river. There be and bis comrades pierced 
them with their bayonets till not one was left alive. 


THE FIEST GUH 


277 . 


As lie looked at tlie dead at kis feet lie saw that 
they were no longer men, but books, Greek and 
Hebrew grammars and the works of the Fathers, 
piled in confusion on the ground. Then they 
climbed up and ranged themselves in rows on the 
wall before him. He awoke, and his eyes rested 
upon his shelves, touched by the first red rays of 
the rising sun. 

^Gt doesn’t take a Joseph to interpret that 
dream,” he said aloud, with a quaint smile. ^^Evi- 
dently it means that I am to be only an inglorious 
soldier in the army of the Church militant.” 

He saw his oaken prie-dieu, and his conscience 
smote him for the word ^finglorious.” Then the 
fear of the night before surged back upon his 
mind. He rose and knelt, shivering. He prayed 
until the perspiration stood on his forehead, but 
when he looked at the crucifix above his head he 
saw beside that figure of patient and heroic suf- 
fering the wicked witchery of her eyes. The mock- 
ing vision beside that sacred face thrilled him 
with horror. He dressed himself with trembling 
haste and fled forth into the fields. 

Basil also had slept little. His mother had 
crept to his bedside, like a desolate ghost, and 
they had talked and wept till near the dawn. 

The family gathered about the breakfast-table 
with haggard faces, and only the children dared 
speak their thoughts. 


278 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


After breakfast Tom and Basil took Anna to 
town with them. She left Lionel in Mrs. Am- 
brose’s care and went off as on a holiday excursion. 
She, was dressed in her best gown and wore a knot 
of red, white, and blue ribbons to show her pa- 
triotism. When her husband enlisted, she stood 
proudly at his side, and when the first company 
was formed she went to see it drill in the park. 

Basil was offered the command of a company 
because of a little previous experience in the vol- 
unteer militia. The unexpected honor taxed his 
knowledge and his energies to the utmost. He 
bought a book of tactics and during the afternoon 
he put his men through the manual of arms as best 
he could. At evening, in spite of his frantic im- 
patience to go and see Imogen, he was obliged 
to attend a meeting of the officers of the rapidly 
forming regiment and listen to the instructions of 
his Colonel. As he threw himself down to sleep 
on a blanket in the wigwam he realized how firmly 
he was held in the grip of the great machine of 
war. He had put his hand to the plough and must 
needs go on to the bitter end. 


CHAPTEE XXIY 


TO ASMS 

The next day Mrs. Ambrose met her husband 
at the station on his return from a tour of con- 
firmation in his diocese. As he took his seat be- 
side her in the buggy he knew by her face that 
the fall of Fort Sumter and the President’s call 
for seventy-five thousand volunteers meant more 
to him personally than he had supposed. She told 
him that Basil and Tom had already enlisted and 
were at that very moment drilling in the Court 
House park. Gus, too, was in town, though he 
had not been able to enlist. Eusebius had in- 
formed the recruiting officer that he was under 
age and was not to be allowed to go in any capacity, 
but the boy still haunted the wigwam in a rebel- 
lious mood. The Bishop knew the limits of his 
power at last and no longer thought to coerce his 
older sons. Gus, however, should return with him 
that day. 

Summit Street was one long line of color. 
From almost etery shop the stars and stripes were 
flung to the cool morning breeze. Even above 
church steeples and school houses the flag was wav- 
ing. It was like a Fourth of July celebration, ex- 
279 


280 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


cept that there was no sound of fire crackers and 
guns, and the faces of the men who talked on the 
street corners were stern with a deep excitement. 
As they drove past people turned to look at them. 

^^There goes Bishop Ambrose. He’ll march his 
hoys home by the ear.” 

^^Can’t do it. They’re of age, and they’ve got 
wills of their own, too.” 

They drew up by the paling that ran around the 
park. Other carriages were there in line and a 
crowd of people stood on the sidewalk to watch 
the boys drill. Children who had played truant 
from school were marching and countermarching 
in another part of the field, armed with wooden 
guns and swords of lath. 

The Bishop looked over the heads of the people 
at the scene before him. The company marching 
down toward the fence was led by Captain Am- 
brose, and Tom carried a gun in the ranks. As 
yet they were ununiformed and many were 
without weapons. Basil himself carried a sword 
he had borrowed. In his left hand he held the 
book of tactics in case of emergency. In spite of 
drawbacks, the men made a fine appearance in the 
eyes of the crowd as they wheeled into fours and 
came marching down the field. The Bishop caught 
sight of his son, proud and erect, his strong voice 
thrilling with suppressed excitement and conscious 
authority. 


TO AKMS 


281 


hep, hep. Keep your distance, there 

They were nearing the fence and still Basil had 
eyes only for his work. 

^^Fours into line! march!’’ 

The fours closed and marched in long lines to- 
ward the Court House, the Captain hacking before 
them. 

^Heft wheel, guide left, march !” 

The columns, sagging in the center, swung 
round toward the street. 

^^Column mark time ! Company halt !” 

It was a pretty ragged line, but the improve- 
ment during the last two days had been great and 
the people cheered. 

The men caught sight of the Bishop, and before 
their Captain could bring them to a ^^ground 
arms” they broke into a murmur of comment. 

^^There’s your father, Bas,” one volunteered. 
Basil’s hesitation was only momentary. 

^^Silence in the ranks !” he cried. ^^Straighten 
that line out, there ! Dress to the right. Present 
arms ! Shoulder arms ! Ground arms !” 

Then he turned and made his way to his father. 
The crowd looked on expectantly. The old man’s 
eyes were bright with pride, but his voice was 
stern. 

^^What is this, Basil ? What do you mean by 
rushing into this thing without waiting for me to 
come home and asking my permission 


282 -THE FIGHTING BISHOP 

country couldn’t wait, sir,” he answered. 
^‘1 knew you would approve.” 

The crowd’s expectation of a scene was disap- 
pointed. ^^And is Tom with you?” his father 
asked, after a pause. 

‘^Yes, sir, in the second line there.” 

The Bishop followed Basil’s hand with his eyes 
and saw Tom examining his gun and talking to a 
comrade with assumed indifference. A pang went 
through his heart. 

^^And Gus ?” he continued. 

^^He’s hanging around the recruiting office in 
the wigwam, but they won’t take him. We’ve 
warned them not to.” 

The Bishop gathered up the reins. He felt that 
he must get away as soon as possible, for an agony 
of grief was rising in his throat. 

^^Come home to-night,” his mother begged. 
^Wou’ll both come home to-night?” 

^Wes, we’ll come !” Basil cried, waving his hand 
as they drove away. 

By the time they reached the wigwam the 
Bishop had measurably recovered his composure, 
though his stern face was pitiable. The wigwam 
was filled with men and boys and the recruiting 
was going rapidly forward. The air was feverish 
with excitement. There were women in the place 
begging their sons not to enlist. Young boys who 
had been rejected sat down and cried bitterly, or 


TO ARMS 


283 


tried to find places in the regiment as drummers 
or officers’ servants. Strong men who had taken 
the fatal step stood waiting for the full quota of 
the next company to he filled up and thought for 
the first time of breaking the news to the folks at 
home. There was not wanting, however, a large 
number of the unthinking, both spectators and par- 
ticipants, to whom the pomp and circumstance of 
war made a strong, pictorial appeal, who accepted 
the tragedy as something remote, like natural 
death, and could not apply it personally. Some 
of the younger women watched their lovers proud- 
ly as they stepped up and enrolled in the. hooks. 

For two days Gus had been idling about the 
place in the vain hope of being accepted. He was 
sitting on a barrel near the recruiting officer, 
watching the work go forward and talking with 
those he knew, when there was an unusual stir at 
the door. He looked up and saw his father hearing 
down upon him. There was no chance of flight. 
He sprang from his perch and stood still, looking 
sheepish, for several of the youngsters near by be- 
gan to laugh. It was not the first time that day 
that a parent had swooped down and carried off a 
son in triumph. 

The Bishop’s grief was turned to anger. Were 
all his sons, then, to flout. his authority? Were 
they to leave him in his old age bereft of support 
and consolation? He seized his son by the arm 


284 ' 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


and marclied liim from tlie place. Ss they passed 
out Gus heard the remarks and laughter of the 
bystanders and his face flushed with humiliation. 
In that hitter moment he resolved that he would 
go to the war, even if he had to run away from 
home. He would yet show them the stuff he was 
made of. 

He scarcely heard his father’s lecture and his 
mother’s entreaties as they drove homeward, for 
a glorious succession of pictures was passing 
through his mind. He saw the hattle-fleld afar, 
and himself the foremost in the flerce assault. The 
long gray lines were whirled away like withered 
leaves before the winter’s blast. Then he dreamed 
of marches through strange southern woods and 
cities, and at last the home-coming, the blare of 
trumpets, the great drum’s pounding and the little 
drum’s steady whirring, the flag flying on ahead, 
and the applause of the multitude. Hot one pic- 
ture was darkened with the real agony of war or 
the hideous carnage of the battle-field. 

Meanwhile, the drilling in the park was over 
and the men dispersed for lunch. As Basil and 
Tom reached the sidewalk together they saw Imo- 
gen seated in her little phaeton just turning her 
horse’s head down Adams Street. Basil’s heart 
gave a leap. He raised his hat and made an im- 
pulsive movement forward, but she appeared not 
to see him. As she turned her head and whipped 


TO ARMS 


285 


up the horse he caught sight of her beautiful pro- 
file, her face pale and set, like that of an offended 
goddess. At first he tried to think that she did 
not see him, hut his conscience told him that she 
did. She had been watching the drill in the park. 
That, then, was the way she had come to learn the 
news he had meant to tell her so tenderly. He had 
been sure of her support; but now! 

Tom saw the misery in his brother’s face and 
laughed. 

^^Don’t take it so hard, Bas,” he advised. 
wish Anna would treat me that way.” 

Basil turned on him a look of anger, such as 
he had never shown before. The comparison was 
an insult. Even in that fierce moment his brother’s 
quick, deprecating glance disarmed him. Tom 
had laid profane hands on sacred things, but he 
had no conception of his sacrilege. 

They continued their walk in silence. Basil 
tried to be angry with Imogen. He argued with 
himself that her patriotism ought to enable her to 
understand why he had obeyed his country’s call 
without hesitation. She ought to know that he 
would have told her first if there, had been time. 
Her anger was the result of wounded vanity. But 
arguments were in vain. They could not relieve 
the weight of misery. His self -justification 
crumbled away. If he were to lose her, would it 
then be worth while? After all, had he been 


286 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


moved only by patriotism? Had be not felt a 
flusH of vain-glory when, because of bis little ex- 
perience, be was offered a captaincy? 

On tbe other band, bis father bad acquiesced at 
once. Even bis mother had shown only grief. Was 
his sweetheart to assume more authority over him 
than his parents? His own intuition answered 
him. He knew in his heart that the members of a 
man’s family will take from him what a sweet- 
heart will never endure, for the former relation- 
ship is eternal, in spite of wilful acts, but the lat- 
ter is selective and delicate and can be maintained 
inviolate only by unceasing vigilance. 

That evening, at supper, the Bishop tried to 
view the situation hopefully. He reiterated his 
opinion that the war would be short and perhaps 
bloodless, like the South Carolina trouble in the 
time of President Jackson. Basil was unable to 
second his father’s efforts, and as soon as the meal 
was finished he took his hat. His father looked 
at him in amazement, but his mother knew where 
he was going. 

^^But this is perhaps our last evening together !” 
he cried. 

^^Ho,” his son explained. ^^The regiment can’t 
get away for a week. I’ll be home every evening, 
possibly.” 

His father sighed. He was too much Hurt to 
ask him to wait for family prayers. He. forgot 


TO ARMS 


287 


the time when he wooed the pretty German girl, 
and the text that commanded a man to leave his 
father and mother and cleave unto his wife. 

The Bishop and Eusebius sat long over their 
pipes together, when the rest had gone to bed, and 
the latter told his father of the crowded events of 
the last fev7 days. 

When the President’s proclamation was read 
Colonel Van Dam mysteriously disappeared. In 
view of his fiery speech at the wigwam, he was 
expected to appear like a very Mars, but he could 
nowhere be found. The delegation that waited 
on him at his house learned from his wife that 
he had been taken suddenly ill and could not leave 
his bed. He, left orders, however, for the recruit- 
ing officers to go on with the work of enlisting 
men. The company he had organized in imitation 
of Ellsworth’s zouaves began to form the nucleus 
of the new regiment, and to make excuses for their 
leader. That very night Van Dam was seen board- 
ing a train, looking like a fugitive from justice. 
A new Colonel was chosen without delay, and the 
work went on. The banker had fallen in a day 
from his high estate and become a jest and a by- 
word on the street. Already in the mouths of the 
people to ^Vandam” meant to show the white 
feather. 

As the Bishop listened to this extraordinary 


288 


THE EIGHTING BISHOP 


story he felt proud of his hoys, and his first feel- 
ing toward the hanker was one of indignation. 

^^TJpon my word,’’ he cried, ^^a carpet knight, a 
tin soldier, a wind hag!” 

His son’s eyes were full of amusement. 

^^You might call on his wife and ofier your con- 
dolences,” he suggested. 

The Bishop suddenly grew grave. 

^^That is exactly what I must do,” he said. ^^This 
is no subject for jesting. I am surprised at you, 
Eusehius!” Then he mused: ^^How wonderful 
are time’s revenges ! This act is a proof of his 
guilt in the matter of the failure. His conscience 
made a coward of him. I begin to think that I 
made a great mistake in turning him away from 
the Communion. God knows, I meant only to 
bring him to repentance, hut it may he that I gave 
him the final downward push. How much more 
serious, sometimes, a mistake is than a sin I” 

^^Did you ever think,” Eusehius said, ^^that his 
wife might have been the real cause of his obsti- 
nacy ? This last act shows that he was lacking in 
courage. What if he were afraid of her ? What 
if he had absolutely no power over her at all ? A 
woman is sometimes harder than a man, I think.” 

The Bishop was obliged to admit the probabil- 
ity, and his gloom deepened. One by one his sins 
were turning home to haunt him and he could not 
conceal his depression from his son. 


TO ARMS 


289 


As they were about to separate, for the night 
Eusebius suddenly said : 

^^There is one thing I wanted to speak to you 
about, father. It was — that is — I was thinking 
of going to the war myself.’^ 

^^You!” the Bishop exclaimed, doubting if he 
heard aright, 

^^Only as a chaplain, to look after the men, ;^ou 
know. Soldiers become so reckless and godless. 
There is no influence so bad as the army. Then, 
too, I want to keep track of Basil and Tom.’’ 

^^And I had looked to you to help me carry on 
the work of the Church ; to succeed me, if it were 
God’s will, when I am gone. I thought you would 
hold up my hands to the last, and be my staff of 
support in my old age. Is there any question in 
your mind as to where your duty lies ?” 

His son saw how deep a wound he had unwit- 
tingly inflicted. 

^^Ho, no,” he protested. ^^You don’t understand 
me, father. It would be only for a time. You 
said yourself that there would probably be no war. 
At least, there would be no danger, for a chaplain 
doesn’t flght in the ranks. And I wanted to go 
for your sake, too. The salary is eighteen hun- 
dred dollars a year, and I was planning to send it 
all to you toward starting a new fund for the 
school.” 


290 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


The Bishop was deeply moved, and for a time he 
could not speak. At last he said : 

don’t need money earned at such a risk. 
It isn’t only the battles. Think of the fevers and 
the heat. You’ve been too much of a student to be 
able to stand the exertion of long marches. I 
should never see you again. You mustn’t go, Euse- 
bius! You are the only one of my sons to fulfil 
my hopes, and I can’t let you go. God will bring 
back my boys, if it is His will, and I know they 
will not forget the teachings of their youth. Basil 
will take care of Tom; but you, I cannot spare 
you I” He could say no more. 

^Tather!” Eusebius cried. ^Torgive me! I 
was wrong. I will stay with you !” 

The Bishop went to his rest comforted. But 
Eusebius, as he took his way through the darkness 
to his room, realized with a fresh panic that a bat- 
tle was before him inore desperate than those of 
war. 


CHAPTEE XXV 


DEEP AS FIRST LOVE 

Basil rowed across the river in the deepening 
twilight, and it was dark before he reached his 
destination. He stood for some time under the 
trees in the yard, looking at the bars of light that 
burst through the half -closed shutters of Mr. Brier- 
ly^s study. A faint wind stirred the young leaves 
above his head. He smelled the earthy odor of a 
ploughed field near-by and noticed the heavy fra- 
grance of the lilacs in Imogen’s garden. That fra- 
grance brought to him a flood of tender memories. 
Indeed, there was no flower of the field and no sea- 
son of the year that was not rich with some, associa- 
tion of her. All those tender memories of past 
Aprils came back to mock him with their reminder 
of the irrevocable change. 

Basil had loved but once, and was not wise 
in the ways of women. Up to this time 
there had been very few misunderstandings 
between himself and Imogen, and he had 
been content to be puzzled and to forget. 
Xow he knew that her love hung wavering 
in the balance, that it was perhaps already lost to 

291 


292 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


him, 'NsYer before bad sbe looked as sbe did that 
morning; never before bad sbe refused to speak 
to bim. He strove once more to fortify bimself 
with arguments, but now be could tbink only of 
bis longing to see ber. He could not stop to rea- 
son ; be must see ber at once and know tbe truth. 
Perhaps it was all a mistake, and sbe bad not seen 
bim in town. Herved by this forlorn hope, be 
stepped on tbe veranda and softly lifted tbe 
knocker. 

Tbe sound reverberated faintly through tbe 
bouse, and presently be beard tbe low murmur of 
voices; but no one came to answer bis knock. 
Again he rapped, more loudly, and bis listening 
ear caught tbe echo of steps in tbe ball. Tbe door 
opened, and Imogen stood before bim, shading tbe 
candle from tbe draft with ber band. 

When sbe saw who it was her look was one of 
well-feigned surprise, and ber welcome was im- 
personal. Sbe spoke quickly, and anticipated any 
move be might make by leading tbe way at once 
to ber father’s study. Basil followed in silence. 
He lacked tbe courage to take ber in bis arms and 
kiss ber, and felt that bis cowardice was an admis- 
sion of bis false position. 

^Tatber will be glad to see you once more,” sbe 
said, ^Tefore you go away ; only, please don’t tell 
bim you’re going. I’ll let him know afterward.” 

Her quick glance showed her that be no longer 


DEEP AS FIEST LOVE 


293 


wore the military cap and coat in which he had 
walked so proudly that morning. Before he had 
time to collect his thoughts, they stood together 
beside Mr. Brierly’s chair. The old man had been 
a paralytic for more than a year and sat reclining 
in an invalid^s chair, covered with an afghan. His 
eyes were as bright as ever beneath his bushy 
brows, and his beard had grown into his lap. He 
took Basil’s hand feebly and held it while he spoke 
in a low and tremulous voice. 

^H’m glad to see you. I hear there is talk of a 
war, and suppose you young men are excited over 
it. Well, well, don’t do anything rash. I don’t 
believe it will amount to anything.” 

His glance wandered anxiously from one face to 
the other, and with mutual deceit they smiled re- 
assuringly. The old man’s intuition seemed al- 
most clairvoyant. He reached with his left hand 
for his daughter’s and went on : 

want you both to be with me to the last. It 
won’t be long, now. In some other life I may be 
young and strong again, as you two children are. 
There’s nothing so beautiful as youth, nothing. 
And this is the springtime again. I smelled the 
lilacs to-day through the open window. It re- 
minded me of my boyhood, when I used to study 
my Virgil at Eton. Imogen has been reading to 
me from Mr. Dryden’s translation. The old poets 
are best. You might as well try to persuade me 


/ 


294 THE EIGHTIHO BISHOP 

that vinegar is better than old wine as to tell me 
that the moderns surpass the ancients.’^ 

He paused, exhausted, for he spoke with diffi- 
culty. 

^^Doffit worry about the war, sir,’^ said Basil. 
^Tather agrees with you that it won’t amount to 
anything. I should like to hear Virgil again my- 
self, if Imogen will go on reading.” 

Mr. Brierly seemed reassured. 

^^Yes, read a little more,” he said to his daugh- 
ter. like to hear you.” 

They seated themselves and she took up the 
book which lay open on the table beside the lamj). 
Her voice, always low and sweet, was now touched 
by an unconscious sadness. 

^^While yet the Spring is young, while Earth un- 
binds 

Her frozen Bosom to the Western Winds ; 

While Mountain Snows dissolve against the Sun, 
And Streams, yet new, from Precipices run. 
Ev’n in this early Dawning of the Year, 

Produce the Plough, and yoke the sturdy Steer, 
And goad him till he groans beneath his Toil, 

Till the bright Share is bury’d in the Soil.” 

As she went on her father nodded from time to 
time his appreciation, but at last his eyes closed 
and he slept unheeding, lulled by the monotonous 
succession of musical couplets. Imogen laid down 
the book. 


DEEP AS FIRST LOVE 


^95 


time he was put to bed/’ she said. 
go and get the nurse to help me.” 

They wheeled the old man away, and Basil was 
left alone. The moments of waiting seemed end- 
less. He picked up the Virgil and tried to divert 
his thoughts by reading. In a little while she 
would come back, and then they would be alone 
together. His heart beat heavily and a tremor 
passed over him. He could scarcely await her re- 
turn, and yet he dreaded it. What should he say ? 
How could he ever put himself right with her 
again ? 

The pathetic figure of her father rose before his 
mind and condemned him. How many feelings he 
had trampled on! "And yet, he told himself, he 
was right. Why should he be exempt ? Were not 
other men loved as he was? Was not patriotism 
the first virtue; were not his country’s claims first, 
especially at a time when her very existence was 
in danger? All the great poets had taught it; it 
was instinctive in the hearts of men. He had been 
driven on by the spirit of his country who de- 
manded this great sacrifice for her salvation. 

He was still groping for means of justification, 
when the door opened. He started to his feet, his 
emotion throbbing in his throat. But Imogen 
was not alone. She had brought the nurse with 
her. 

asked Miss Campbell to come and sit with 


296 THE FIGHTING BISHOP 

HS awhile/’ she said. ^Tather is sound asleep. 
She wants to hear how things are going on in town. 
We’re so out of the world here.” 

^^Whj, I saw you in town this morning!” he 
exclaimed, involuntarily. 

^^Only for a little while, on a few errands,” 
she explained, ^^hut I heard of Colonel Van Dam’s 
sudden illness. Do tell Miss Campbell about it; 
I’m sure she will he interested.” 

She took up a" piece of embroidery and sat down 
as if to listen. His heart contracted with pain as 
he saw her familiar attitude of attention. How 
often he had read to her while some dainty fabric 
took on a shape of beauty beneath her fingers I He 
even recognized the pattern that now lay upon her 
lap. He was out-generaled, and could only do as 
she asked. Unless he would appear a stupid hoy 
in the sulks, he must tell the story. Pride came 
to his aid, and he told it well, emphasizing the 
humor as best he could. 

Miss Campbell was a garrulous old maid. She 
devoured every detail with eager interest, while 
Imogen laughed lightly and entered into a full dis- 
cussion of the afPair. She even went farther than 
she intended and spoke slightingly of Mr. Van 
Dam’s previous religious professions. Basil was 
hurt by the connotation of her words, but had not 
the heart or wit to retort. He felt in her the scorn 
of the unbeliever, and his confusion was no less 


DEEP AS FIEST LOVE 


297 


great because his religious opinions were more 
liberal than his father’s. In some indefinable way 
she managed to identify him with opinions which 
she knew well that he disclaimed. 

The wretched evening dragged on, and still Miss 
Campbell, starving for gossip and company in that 
lonely place, made no move to go. Even when she 
began to grow sleepy, Imogen made every effort to 
hold her attention. Once she rallied Basil on 
his captaincy, as if it were an amusing experi- 
ment. At last his misery conquered him and he 
could no longer play his part. He sat, gloomy and 
distraught, answering only in monosyllables. It 
was eleven o’clock, and the nurse sat yawning in 
her chair. Imogen, too, became silent, and worked 
industriously at her embroidery with an impas- 
sive face. Finally, Miss Campbell rose and went 
to take a last look at her patient, before going to 
bed. Even then, Imogen postponed the inevitable 
by going with her and remaining away as long as 
she could. 

When she returned her face was white. She 
sat down and tried to resume her work, but her 
hands trembled. Basil rose to his feet and stood 
before her, his hat in his hand. He cleared his 
throat and spoke in a voice so husky and unnatural 
that it scarcely seemed his own. 

may as well bid you good-night and good-by. 
It seems that you have tried hard enough not to 


298 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


see me alone. I don’t know wkat I’ve done to 
deserve it.” 

He had begun the evening in a repentant mood, 
but the long torture to which she had subjected 
him made him feel that all was over between 
them. She stood and faced him. In that bitter 
and cruel moment they were strangers to each 
other. 

shall see you again before you go?” she 
asked, as if he were a mere acquaintance about to 
start on an unimportant journey. 

^Terhaps,” he answered, dully. ^^I don’t know. 
Good-by.” 

He went to the door. To shake hands would 
have been a mockery. He hesitated one moment, 
with his hand upon the knob, and turned to look 
at her for the last time. She made no sign of 
yielding, but perhaps he divined that only a great 
love could cause the suffering he saw in her face. 
"A sudden thought of the uncertainty to which he 
was going, a piercing realization of the shortness 
of life, swept his pride away. He closed the 
door. 

^/Imogen!” he cried. ^Tmogen!” 

He strove to take her in his arms, but she pushed 
him from her. Sinking into her chair, she burst 
into such a torrent of tears that he stood trans- 
fixed with terror and remorse. He threw himself 
on his knees beside her and tried to take her 


DEEP AS EIEST LOVE 


299 


hands from her face; hut sHe kept them tightly 
pressed and, bowing down, her golden hair un- 
loosened, she shook with weeping as thongh she 
would give up her very life with grief. 

^^Don’t you see he heard her whisper. ^^Can’t 
you understand how I felt?’^ 

Almost beside himself, he tried to comfort her, 
murmuring brokenly all the pet names he had 
come to use during their long engagement, while 
his own eyes were wet with tears. He reproached 
himself bitterly and told her that he had been en- 
tirely in the wrong. She was' suffering all the 
agony of a woman who, while she does not doubt 
her lover’s faithfulness, his choice of her above all 
others, is yet convinced that his love cannot equal 
her own absolute devotion if he can forget her in 
any crisis of his life. 

Her struggle, though fierce, was brief. Her 
pride could not hold out against his humility, and 
when she yielded she was too magnanimous to 
give her doubts expression. 

^^Don’t you see that I couldn’t have been so 
angry and hurt if I hadn’t loved you so much?” 
she suddenly fiashed out at him, sitting up and 
smiling through her tears. 

Presently they went out upon the veranda. 
The night was full of the enchantment of the 
springtime and the moist breeze dimmed the stars. 
Hever before had their love seemed so perfect. 


800 THE EIGHTIHG .BISHOP 

Witli the hopefulness of youth, they persuaded 
themselves that the war could not last long, and 
that he would soon come home again unharmed. 
Imogen’s nature rebounded from her sorrow and 
she became pathetically gay. 

^^Why didn’t you kiss me, when you first came, 
Mr. Ambrose ?” she demanded. 

^^Why, indeed?” he echoed, framing her pale 
face with his hands. 

About one o’clock a heavy storm blew up and 
the rain drove them to the hack of the veranda. 
They stood against the wall, his arm about her, lis- 
tening to the thunder and the rush of the water, and 
catching weird glimpses of each other and of the 
straining trees in the frequent flashes of lightning. 
Once, when he stooped to kiss her, she put her 
arms about his neck and whispered : 

^^Dearest, I’m glad you enlisted. You don’t 
know how proud I am of you !” 

Hot even when he first kissed her had her sweet- 
ness as a woman so thrilled him. She was like a 
flower, giving out a rarer fragrance when wound- 
ed. He seemed to he filled with her as their lips 
met. She trembled, and they stood apart, abashed. 

^^Dearest,” she faltered, ^fit seems to me that we 
never kissed each other before.” 

The rain ceased and they saw the stars through 
the ragged rents in the drifting vapor. The night 
wore on, and still they could not part. Pale, cold, 


DEEP AS FIEST DOVE 


301 


and weary, they clung to each other wistfully. 
She kept down her tears bravely to the end, say- 
ing many times that they would see each other 
again before he went away. E’either spoke of the 
great fear of the future that filled their hearts in 
that hour of weariness, standing together in the 
mysterious depth of the April night. But after 
they had parted she cried herself to sleep, and 
while he stumbled along the road the stars sent 
down long shafts of light through his tears. 

He found the boat half -full of water. After he 
had hailed it out he made a cushion of his coat and 
settled down to the long pull across the black 
waters of the Maumee. How and again he turned 
his head to guide himself by the range-light that 
stood on the farther shore in line with his father’s 
house. 

He remembered his pride in his strong brown 
arms when Imogen had shyly praised them one 
day upon the marsh. How little their strength 
would avail against the unseen emissaries of death 
in the day of battle ! 

Cassiopeia’s guards hung low in the sky, and 
the dipper’s farther edge pointed palely to the 
north star. He could now see not only the lamp 
of Turtle Light, hut also the dim outlines of the 
tower against the horizon. In the cold dawn he 
wrestled grimly with the phantom Fear and con- 
quered. 


302 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


He fastened the heat to the landing when the 
east was red with the morning and the lights along 
the lake went out. They, too, had watched with 
him through the night. How sudden was the ap- 
proach of day! He looked in vain in the moist, 
blue sky for the vestige of a star. Only a shaft 
of golden sunlight struck across the tree-tops as he 
walked rapidly homeward through the wet weeds 
and listened to the ecstasy of the birds in the 
branches above his head. 


CHAPTEE XXVI 


IMOGEI^’S VISIT 

Xear tlie end of April the regiment left Toledo, 
and the long agony of waiting began. Anna and 
her baby came to live once more at the old home, 
since there seemed nothing else for them to do. 
Perhaps not one of the ten thousand people who 
witnessed the soldiers’ departure was really less 
aware than she of the terrible significance of the 
event, yet none appeared to he more deeply moved. 

The prospect of her daughter-in-law’s continued 
presence in the house, was almost more than Mrs. 
Ambrose could endure. She shrank from a con- 
stant reminder of the disgrace that had befallen 
them. The family skeleton was to he taken from 
the closet and exhibited daily before her eyes. She 
felt it was wrong to entertain a coldness toward 
the. innocent child of that loveless marriage, and 
when she realized how he lacked a mother’s care 
she resolutely put the feeling down and accepted 
Tom’s trust as sacred. 

The unconcern with which Anna resigned the 
care of her child was an additional grievance. Had 
she protested, Mrs. Ambrose would have combated 
her and declared that she was not fit to assume 
303 


304 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


the charge ; hut now that she acquiesced, the good 
woman’s sonl was equally offended at the mother’s 
lack of heart. Thus exposed to inevitable oppro- 
brium, the younger woman bore up by sheer shal- 
lowness of nature which no scorn could crush. 
Her failure to appreciate the situation was as 
baffling as heroism, and dulled the edge of anger 
by making it useless. A manner of living together 
was gradually established which, though far from 
affectionate, was capable of indefinite prolonga- 
tion. Occasional flashes of irritation were con- 
cealed from the Bishop by mutual consent, for 
Mrs. Ambrose did not wish to add to his troubles, 
and Anna had no desire to consult a stern arbiter 
whose decision would doubtless condemn her. 

Anna found in patriotism another emotional 
opportunity. She sent her husband many things, 
useful and useless, and the stationery she em- 
ployed in her letters was in the nature of an ad- 
vertisement of her sentiments. In the upper left- 
hand corner of the envelope appeared the figure 
of a long-haired sailor lad nailing the stars and 
stripes to a mast, under which were printed the 
historic words of General Dix : 

'"If any man tries to haul dovm the American 
flag, shoot him on the spot/^ 

Little Lionel was a beautiful child, with a con- 
tented disposition, and ought to have appealed to 
the maternal instinct of any woman. Hot only 


IMOGEN''s VISIT 


305 ' 


did his mother lack this instinct, hut the child ap- 
peared to her only an encumbrance, a disturber of 
her new dreams of romance, Eusebius, now that 
Tom was gone, began to take more notice of his 
nephew. Up to this time he had thought of him 
only as a baby of whom they had no reason to be 
proud. But his celibate mind made the great dis- 
covery that babies, like stars, differ from one 
another in glory. The discovery was made in the 
garden. He found a curious thrill in the touch of 
the little hand as he led his nephew about and 
told him the names of things. The experience was 
so delightful that he repeated it as often as he 
could, wondering at his own pleasure in the child’s 
intermittent attention to his remarks and his im- 
perfect comprehension of their meaning. Subtle 
and abrupt questionings arose within him, and he 
pondered the significance of the phrase ^Hnless 
ye become as little children.” And Lionel was his 
salvation. There he was daily before him, look- 
ing up at him with Anna’s eyes to remind him of 
her wifehood and maternity. The innocence of 
the child pleaded with him for mercy on the par- 
ents and stilled the rising of unruly thoughts. Eu- 
sebius met Anna’s subtle advances with coldness, 
and sometimes he treated her with an austerity 
that made her fear, though it stung her passion 
with a deeper longing that was almost spiritual. 

One morning Imogen drove up to the door in 


306 


THE FIGHTING BISHGP 


her phaeton. The Bishop was jnst coming from 
the honse. He lifted her down and kissed her. 

^^hlow that you have found the way, you must 
come oftener,” he said. ^^How is your father?’’ 

Her face flushed with pleasure, for her heart 
had foolishly misgiven her on the road. 

can’t be spared from home very long at a 
time,” she explained, “for I never know what may 
happen in my absence. Father doesn’t pay much 
attention to anything now, but just lies quietly 
looking out of the window.” 

The Bishop regarded her attentively. Under 
the glance of his electrical blue eyes she was timid, 
but not abashed. This, then, was the woman his 
son had chosen for a wife. The long and patient 
ministration to her father had left her somewhat 
pale, but it increased her worth in the Bishop’s 
eyes. He approved of the “ministering angel” 
in the house, and Imogen was fair and sweet 
enough to look the part. He did not doubt that 
she would join her husband’s church after her 
father’s death, and thus he would win a convert 
and a daughter at the same time. 

“Your father is not unhappy/’ he said, kindly. 
“Nature prepares us gently for the flnal change. 
You must not let grief for him add to your cares. 
You will need all your strength.” 

This was not quite what he would have said in 
ordinary cases, but he could ofler no religious con- 


IMOGEN'’s VISIT 


307 


solation to the daughter of a pagan. He spoke, 
therefore, as a philosopher who contemplates sadly 
and sympathetically the brief span of man’s life. 
They passed into the house together. Mrs. Am- 
brose greeted Imogen as a daughter. 

^T’m getting to be an old woman,” she said, 
^^and find it hard to get about as I used to. It 
was so sweet of you, my dear child, not to stand 
on ceremony. I was always glad that you and 
Basil loved each other, and when he comes back 
from this dreadful war you shall be married. You 
must stay to dinner. You must come to see us 
often.” 

Anna’s attitude toward the visitor was peculiar. 
She insisted on showing the same outward affec- 
tion that Mrs. Ambrose had shown, but her man- 
ner conveyed to Imogen’s mind a hint of airiness 
and patronage. Was not she also Mrs. Ambrose ? 
She would not be put outside the, common interests 
of the others, but forced herself with gentle per- 
sistence to the front and exacted attention. It 
was inevitable that Anna and Imogen should dis- 
like each other. 

During the conversation Anna found an oppor- 
tunity to remark with apparent sympathy on 
the ravages which nursing had made in Miss Brier- 
ly’s looks. She praised Tom’s soldierly qualities, 
but maintained an eloquent silence when Basil 
was mentioned. These signs of malice were not 


306 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


lost on the visitor, but she was above a feline 
reven^. To ber tbe little woman’s spite seemed 
only very pitiful. Sbe devoted ber attention as 
much as possible to Mrs. Ambrose and tbe two read 
each other extracts from recent letters from tbe 
army. 

Cecily was something of a puzzle. Outwardly, 
sbe was amiable, but ber bright gray eyes held a 
look of scrutiny that seemed at times to indicate 
a subtle hostility. Imogen saw at once that sbe 
was ber father’s feminine counterpart; brilliant, 
cold, and full of thoughts. Sbe felt as if sbe were 
on tbe witness stand before tbe girl, and divined 
that when sbe was gone Cecily would express a 
final opinion of ber. At tbe lunch table she found 
herself talking chiefly to Mrs. Ambrose and Euse- 
bius. Gus was present, but sbe observed that be 
counted little as an individuality beside tbe others. 

Afterward, Eusebius took ber to see tbe roses 
in tbe garden. Little ^^IN’elly” walked between 
them, bolding each by tbe band. Tbe young priest 
noted ber gentleness with tbe child, and ber un- 
concern when be soiled ber dress with bis muddy 
bands. He thought bow Anna would have pushed 
him from ber with a petulant expression of disap- 
proval. Sbe was more motherly than tbe child’s 
own mother, and bis heart did ber homage. Sbe 
seemed like an angel of mercy to bis troubled soul, 
standing over against a wicked phantom and bid- 


IMOGEN''s VISIT 


309 


ding it begone. For tbe first time since that fatal 
night he felt serenely happy. 

At the end of a path they came upon a hive, of 
bees buzzing in the warm afternoon sunshine. 

^^My wedding-fee/’ he explained, ^^from the hus- 
band of your former little servant, Eugenie. I 
brought it home from French Camp last night, 
covered with a blanket. Since then each of us 
has taken his turn at being stung, including Lionel 
here. He justified his name by roaring like, a 
little lion.” 

had intended to go,” she replied, ^^but father 
could not spare me. How did she look in the 
gown we made for her ? I was so sorry to lose my 
little. Eugenie.” 

^^As pretty as a picture; and her husband was 
such a great hulking fellow. I often think that 
girls of her class who have been in good service 
become too refined for the men they must marry ; 
but they sink in the scale afterwards, poor things. 
French Camp was in festive attire. The dancing 
pavilion was decorated with greens, and lighted 
with lanterns and torches. I left them in full 
swing whe.n I drove away with my fee buzzing 
sleepily under the blanket. 

^Terhaps they resented being carried off by a 
Protestant,” he added, smiling. ^'My presence 
there was due to the sudden illness of the Roman 
priest who was to have married them. Eugenie 


310 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


suggested that I would do. I’m afraid the liberal 
atmosphere of your home has hurt her orthodoxy. 
I believe that most of the guests took me for a 
Eomanist, especially as I used a book. The cere- 
mony in the two churches is very similar, also, and 
is derived from the. same source, the ancient 'Ordo 
ad faciendum sponsalia/ As I was leaving the 
place a man dropped down on his knees and said 
^Your blessing, father.’ I gave him a ^Benedicat 
te Deus Pater' in Eoman fashion, and he was en- 
tirely satisfied.” 

Imogen met the amused twinkle in his eyes with 
a puzzled gaze, and then smiled in turn. 

^^The efficacy of a blessing depends on the 
recipient, I suppose,” she said, ^^and the mistake 
could have done him no harm.” 

Inwardly, she wondered. The incident seemed 
to her to show a characteristic touch of priestly 
duplicity. 

When they reentered the house he gave her a 
miniature of her lover which he had colored him- 
self. He showed her also one of his illuminated 
manuscripts and his plans for the divinity school 
which had never been built. 

With an instinctive desire to postpone her de- 
parture he brought out the song that Stephen had 
composed for Lillian Helson. The Bishop came 
in at the sound of the music and listened atten- 
tively. 


IMOGEIT^S VISIT 


811 


haven’t heard it for some time,” he remarked. 
^^It bears repetition. He dedicated it on the cover 
to a young lady. I had hoped he would be married 
by this time ; he needs a good, sweet wife to keep 
him steady and take care of him.” 

Mrs. Ambrose looked up from her chair, and 
the knitting-needles lay idle in her lap. 

‘Toor boy,” she said. ^^I’m afraid it will never 
amount to anything; his letters have been so sad 
and troubled for a long time. I’m afraid it is all 
over between them.” 

^^Oh, lovers must have their quarrels,” the Bishop 
rejoined, cheerfully. ^^If they’re meant for each 
other they’ll come together some day. But we 
really know nothing about it. Stephen’s letters 
were always unsatisfactory. We must hope for 
the best. She must be a sweet girl to inspire such 
a song.” 

Imogen picked up the sheet of music. ^Hler 
name is lovely, too,” she remarked. ^^It seems to 
fit the song, somehow. I hope to meet her some 
time.” 

She rose to go, blushing slightly at the connota- 
tion of her last words. The Bishop laughed, and 
embraced her genially. She had won his heart. 

Later in the day Eusebius met Anna alone in 
the hall. He was about to pass by when she 
stopped him with an imperious little gesture for- 
eign to her usual manner. 


312 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


saw you in the garden/’ she said, in a low, 
distinct voice, ^ Vith your future sister. I thought 
you seemed very brotherly indeed.” 

He stared at her a moment in blank amaze- 
ment before his ready wit returned. 

^^I’m glad my courtesy toward her met your ap- 
proval.” 

As he passed into the open air the absurdity of 
the thing dawned upon him and he shook with 
laughter. And that silly, jealous child had tempt- 
ed him! He had long regarded her as irrespon- 
sible and felt that the burden of resisting was his 
alone. Well, he would be equal to it. She could 
never move him again. As he walked on, hum- 
ming happily to himself, he felt that the victory 
was won. 

After her visit Imogen began to go to the Bish- 
op’s church, when she could. She scarcely under- 
stood her own motives for the growing habit, but 
she was sure that it was not the result of religious 
conviction. In that place she seemed nearer to 
her lover than in any other. As she listened with 
bowed head to the Bishop repeating the peti- 
tions of the Litany her heart beat faster; and 
especially when the old man’s voice deepened and 
trembled at the words, ^Trom battle and murder 
and from sudden death.” The tears would come 
to her eyes as she murmured the response and 


IMOGEN^S VISIT 


313 


thought of her lover far away in the South fighting 
for his country. 

When the Bishop observed her frequent attend- 
ance at church he felt sure that she would soon 
present herself for confirmation. She was doing 
just what he had expected her to do, and the 
thought of her marriage to his son gave, him almost 
the only ray of happiness he experienced during 
those anxious days. His attentions, the hooks he 
lent her to read, embarrassed her, hut did not keep 
her away. She felt convinced that he was deluded, 
hut she had not the heart to undeceive him. 

With Eusebius she was more at ease. She found 
him always tactful and interesting. He accepted 
her presence at church as a matter of course. It 
became almost a habit with them to stop and talk 
a few minutes after service. His cleverness seemed 
without limit, and always lying in wait to sur- 
prise her with an unexpected achievement. She 
saw that he was too simple and too large for per- 
sonal conceit. Everything he could do was conse- 
crated humbly to the Church, and he felt sincerely 
that it was an unworthy offering. 

One day he told her that the frescoes on the 
ceiling had been painted by his father and him- 
self, lying on their backs upon a scaffolding, when 
they could find no one in the city capable of un- 
dertaking the work. He had modeled the little 
cherubs that lifted their chubby faces and tiny 


314 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


wings above each window, and she could say .with 
perfect sincerity that they reminded her of the 
work of an Italian master. 

Nevertheless, as she drove homeward, she won- 
dered why it was that in her admiration and liking 
for him there remained always an instinctive men- 
tal reservation. 


CHAPTEE XXYII 


THE BISHOP MEETS HIS APOLLYOH 

The regiment had been gone only about two 
months, when news was received in Toledo of a 
railroad accident near Bucyrus in which Mr. Van 
Dam was killed. 

When the Bishop heard the report he went to 
his study and refused to he seen. That whole even- 
ing he wrestled alone. He went over again every 
incident of their estrangement, and felt that in 
this case, as with Tom, he had been an austere 
judge. True, he had made several efforts to bring 
about a reconciliation, but in vain. He recalled 
his last visit, when he met the banker’s wife alone. 
She had baffled him completely by refusing all 
sympathy and stating that her husband was absent 
on business. The Bishop found it impossible to 
speak to her of the incident at the Communion 
after that, and went away, resolved to see his par- 
ishioner alone after his return. 

How he would never see him again. The ac- 
count was closed between them. It did not ease 
the Bishop’s grief to realize that he had not been 
unjust. Van Dam had sinned, and had hardened 
315 


316 THE FIGHTING BISHOP 

his heart. The Bishop was within his rights, and 
had acted for the best, according to his judgment ; 
hut his justice, had not been tempered with 
mercy, and was exercised on the son of his old 
friend, a hoy confided, in a way, to his especial 
tenderness. 

He asked himself how he could now he sure that 
Cornelius had come to the rail in a spirit of brav- 
ado. Perhaps he was in a repentant mood, or, at 
the worst, his wife may have been responsible; 
and he the representative of Christ, who forgave 
the thief on the cross, had passed him by in scorn ! 
How he was dead, deprived of the last offices of 
the Church, hurled without warning to his final 
judgment. If he had been accepted that day at 
the Communion he might not have proved recreant 
when his country called him. In the silence, of 
his room the , Bishop heard more and more loudly 
the voice of his conscience: ^^And who art thou 
that judgest another 

Hot one man of the regiment Van Dam had 
feared to lead had yet been killed. They were 
now in the scene of hostilities, and every day the 
news of a battle was expected. At the thought of 
Tom the Bishop buried his head in his arms upon 
the desk and shuddered. The vision of those two 
young men, so harshly judged, so mismanaged, 
rose up to condemn him. There, with no one to 
see, he was unnerved and afraid. All the good he 


MEETS HIS APOLLYOH 


317 


had done seemed as nothing in view of the sins 
into which his pride had led him. The candle 
burned out, and he felt that he was alone with 
God in the darkness. 

A superstition seized him. The fear that Tom 
might die became a certainty to his mind. He 
felt that God would punish him thus, that he 
would take away his son and leave the wife and 
child to remind him daily of his need of repent- 
ance. He sank to his knees and wrestled long in 
prayer. He prayed for the life of his sons, but 
most of all for the life of the younger, that he 
might yet have a chance to turn the early defeat 
into a glorious victory. 

At last, when he went to bed, he lay broad 
awake, staring into the darkness. Prayer had 
brought him no relief. The scales fell from his 
eyes, and he who had so often judged others harsh- 
ly now had no mercy on himself, but went down 
alone into the dark valley of humiliation. 

Old sins rose up to confront him, sins of frivol- 
ity and youth belonging to that almost forgotten 
time in Philadelphia, before he had felt the quick- 
ening breath of the Holy Spirit. He remembered 
how once, when a hoy, he had tried to capture his 
horse grazing in a field, and how the animal’s per- 
versity had aroused him to a frenzy of wrath so 
that he almost killed it with a club. His terrible 
enemies. Passion and Pride! At every step of 


818 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


his career they had waylaid him, and how often 
they had given him a fall! A horror took hold 
upon him as he realized that only by the mercy of 
God had he escaped being a murderer in some of 
the fierce outbursts of his wrath. 

He listened to his wife’s quiet breathing at 
his side. She, at least, had always walked humbly 
with God and had nothing to fear. There was no 
help in her. 

In terror he got up from the bed and felt for 
the Bible that lay on a table in the room. The 
early summer dawn was stealing in, half revealing 
the furniture, and making grotesque shapes of the 
garments thrown upon the chairs. He pushed back 
the curtains, and holding the book open to the 
light, he read: 

^Tn the day when the keepers of the house 
shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow them- 
selves, and the grinders cease, because they are 
few, and those that look out of the windows be 
darkened * * * and he shall rise up at the voice 

of the bird * * * and desire shall fail, because, 

man goeth to his long home * * * Vanity of 

vanities, saith the Preacher ; all is vanity * * * 

For God shall bring every work into judgment, 
with every secret thing, whether it be good or 
whether it be, evil.” 

He had opened the book at random, and lo! 
every word went home. He knew the chapter by 


MEETS HIS APOLLYOH 


319 


heart. How often he had read it in Church when 
the appointed time came, back with the circling 
years ! ISTow it was his very self. His knees, ^^the 
keepers of the house,” were trembling, and the 
windows of his soul were dark. He, too, was ris- 
ing ^^at the voice of the bird.” 

His wife stirred uneasily and opened her eyes. 

^Tatrick, dear,” she said, have had such a 
sweet dream. I thought I heard the children sing- 
ing—” 

She paused as she saw him standing at the win- 
dow, like a gray ghost surprised by the dawn 

‘^It was the birds, Martha,” he answered. ^^Don’t 
you hear them in the trees? I was reading the 
twelfth chapter of Ecclesiastes : ^and he shall rise 
up at the voice of the bird.’ That’s the way with 
me now, Martha. I’m getting to be an old man.” 

^Tatrick!” she cried, sitting up, now wide 
awake. ^^You’re over-tired. You don’t sleep as 
well as you used to. Come back to bed and let me 
get you something warm to drink. You must sleep 
late, and I shall keep the house quiet, so you sha’n’t 
be disturbed.” 

She arose and led him gently back to bed. He 
yielded to her will, but her companionship did not 
relieve the weary dreariness of his mood. As he 
looked at her bent figure, and gray, disheveled 
hair, he pictured her fresh and sweet in her bridal 
robe. How imperceptibly the change had come. 


320 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


yet how irrevocable it was ! ^^And desire shall fail, 
because man goeth to his long home, and the, 
mourners go about the streets.’’ 

He watched her draw the curtains to shut out 
the light, and at last peace came. He turned his 
face to the wall and slept. 

After that night the Bishop walked daily in the 
shadow of his dread of disaster; but the tragedy 
which he nerved himself to meet did not come. 
At the end of the three months for which the regi- 
ment had enlisted, the, boys returned, safe and 
sound. Heath had come into the ranks, but they 
were spared. Tom wore a sergeant’s stripes for 
bravery under fire, and Basil’s hand showed an 
ugly scar. 

Both carried themselves with new dignity. 
Every incident of camp and battle was related 
again and again. Gus followed them about like 
a shadow, and secretly resolved that they should 
not return without him. Anna was triumphant, 
and hinted that her Tom was the better soldier of 
the two ; but to these little pin-pricks Basil paid no 
attention, and Tom was angered by his wife’s mal- 
ice. Tom’s return was a comfort to Eusebius in 
more ways than one. He hoped that Anna’s ap- 
parent pride in her husband indicated a return of 
the old love between them. His temptation seemed 
like a delusion. He wondered whether she had 


MEETS HIS APOLLYOK 


321 


really tempted him, and scourged himself with 
scorn for the injustice he had done her. 

Basil spent most of his brief time with Imogen 
and his family saw little of him. He resolved to 
reenlist for a term of three years, and the days he 
spent with his sweetheart were an agony of con- 
flicting emotions to them both. She tried to per- 
suade him that he had done enough, and they went 
over the old ground again with tragic tears, es- 
trangements, and reconciliations. The first part- 
ing had been lightened by a great spiritual exalta- 
tion, and by all the stirring pomp of war ; the sec- 
ond was hopeless and dreary. 

Heither of them thought of marrying at such a 
time, as so many lovers did, for they felt that no 
formal ceremony could ever more truly unite 
them. 

The battle of Bull Kun had been fought, and 
the Horth began to realize that the war would be 
to the death. The rapid rush of events already 
made the Bishop’s hopeful prophecy a curiosity of 
misjudgment. 

When the regiment had gone, Gus moped for a 
few days, like one sick with disappointment, and 
then suddenly disappeared. He overtook the army 
by train, and would not return. 

Thus the three sons of the Bishop were whirled 
away into the vortex of the great war ; one driven 
by pure love of country, one by the ruin of his 


322 


THE EIGHTINa BISHOP 


happiness, and one by love of glory. The Bishop 
waited and prayed, but his prayers were not in- 
spired by faith. He felt that his punishment was 
coming, and his spirit became that of a Greek 
awaiting the consummation of his doom. 


CHAPTEE XXVIII 


GETTYSBUEG 

On the night of the first of Jnlj, 1863, the Fifth 
Corps of the Army of the Potomac rested at 
Taney town, Maryland, fourteen miles south of 
Grettyshurg. Since Hooker’s repulse at Chancel- 
lorsville the army had been hurried northward, 
crossing the Potomac at Edward’s Eerry and pur- 
suing the Confederates, who were now launched 
on their long-planned invasion of the northern 
states. 

Tom and Gus had washed down their hardtack 
with black coffee made in a tin cup at the camp 
fire. , The light on their faces showed the changes 
which two years of hard campaigning had brought. 
Both were gaunt and tanned. There was not an 
ounce of superfluous flesh on their bones nor an 
unnecessary pound in their baggage. Though still 
mere boys, they had become veterans. Gus took 
off .his ragged shoes to ease his swollen feet, and 
rubbed them gently with tallow from the camp 
kettle. His brother puffed his pipe gloomily and 
stared at the fire. The news of the morning’s 
fighting at Gettysburg had spread through the 
333 


324 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


camp and they were momently expecting tlie 
order to move. 

Already the corps of Sickles, Hancock, and Slo- 
cum were marching northward through the dark- 
ness. Everything was in readiness for the word ; 
the tents were struck, the guns prepared, and the 
blankets rolled. The rumor of Eeynold’s death, 
and of the, occupation of Gettysburg by the enemy, 
deepened the gloom which had now become habit- 
ual in the army. 

^Why is it, Tom,” his brother asked, drawing 
on his shoes with a painful effort, ^Vhy is it that 
the Eebs always give us a licking 

^Heason enough,” the other growled. ^^Too 
many cooks. We get a new General after every 
battle, and every one has a different plan, or no 
plan at all. Then, too, most of the officers, Bas 
tells me, are against the government and down on 
the freeing of the niggers. It reminds me of the 
bundle of sticks Spec used to make us read about ; 
they’re breaking us up, one by one. Look how 
they hang together !” 

^^Do you remember the stuff you carried with 
you the first time you enlisted ?” Gus asked, look- 
ing at the thin knapsack at his feet. 

^^Don’t I though ! Two blankets, an overcoat, 
tooth brush, hair brush, socks, shirts, handker* 
chiefs, and a Bible. I guess the folks thought we 
were going to housekeeping.” 


GETTYSBURG 


325 


They were talking of home when the word came. 
On the march Basil walked with them when he 
could. He saw the condition of his brother's feet 
and made him ride on an ammunition wagon. 
Tom trudged stolidly along behind. His sergeant’s 
stripes had disappeared, and he was once more a 
private. His degradation dated from a recent at- 
tempt to knock down his Colonel. He had been 
sent to arrest some men who had plundered a sut- 
ler of his whisky, and was seen returning at the 
head of the, hand, his hat well hack on his head, 
swinging his canteen jovially, and singing ^^John 
Brown’s Body” at the top of his voice. 

How as he walked automatically, carrying his 
gun and knapsack, and thought of his disgrace, he 
resolved to win hack his stripes in the coming fight, 
or die in the attempt. His mood was hitter and 
sullen. It seemed that he. never could do right 
long at a time. The old devilment would break 
out again, when he least expected it, and throw 
him hack to the beginning of the race. Gradually 
his thoughts became confused. He was so tired 
that he was conscious only of a dull aching from 
head to foot. How and again he slept, and was 
awakened by bumping into the wagon in front 
of him and falling to the ground. There were 
many short halts during the night, when the col- 
umns became congested. At such times the men 
fell down in their tracks and slept until awakened 


326 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


by their officers and compelled to resume tHe 
march. 

At one place they passed a fire by the side of 
the road. Women were making coffee in large 
kettles and giving it to the soldiers in cups and 
dippers. One of them spoke to Tom : 

^TVe got a boy in the Union army myself, and 
one with Lee.” She was crying as she spoke. 

^Woufil see them both again for this,” he re- 
plied. 

He shook Gus awake. 

^^Here, youngster,” he said, ^ffirink this. You’ll 
need it.” 

When he turned to get some for himself, it was 
all gone, so rapid had been the distribution. There 
was still a little water in his canteen. He took a 
gulp, and bit off a piece of twisted tobacco. Then 
he settled his knapsack upon his shoulders and 
staggered on. It was long after midnight when 
the corps took up its position behind Cemetery 
Eidge. Gus got down from the wagon and they 
rolled themselves in their blankets for a few hours’ 
sleep before the battle which would begin with the 
dawn. They looked about upon their gruesome 
resting place. The moon was at the full, and the 
air was thick with a drifting, shroud-like mist. 
On every side they saw the ghostly, white shafts 
of the grave-stones, some of them already over- 
turned and broken by the first day’s cannonade. 


GETTYSBUEa 


327 


The barrows of the dead seemed multiplied hj 
the outstretched forms of the living. 

Basil came to hid them good-night. His face 
was white wdth utter weariness, hut he smiled 
when his brothers called his attention to their 
ominous surroundings. 

^^So much the more protection from the bullets 
of the Johnnies,” he said. ^^How’s your foot?” 

^^Oh, I^m all right,” Gus replied. he all 

right in the morning. They wonT whip us this 
time, will they, Bas ?” 

^Well, I should say not! Just wait till to-mor- 
row, and you J1 see them skedaddle back into Mary- 
land. Theydl never take this ridge; hut theyh’e 
just flush enough to try it.” 

^^Bas,” entreated Tom, ^^donT go yet. We’ve 
been in a good many flghts before, and I never 
thought anything would happen to me. Somehow, 
I knew I’d pull through. But this time it’s dif- 
ferent. I knew it on the march. I looked up and 
saw a whole army of angels in the air, under the 
moon. I was just thinking that I would win back 
my stripes, or know the reason why, when I saw 
them. They kept up with us for a mile or more, 
waving long palms in their hands and singing. 
They were beckoning to me. Don’t tell me they 
weren’t ; I know they were.” 

Basil shuddered. ^Tt was the mist,” he said, 
^^and you heard the rattling of the wheels. You 


328 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


were only half awake, Tom. Don’t you remember 
my waking you up ? Don’t be superstitious. There 
was poor Jack Williams: he was sure he would 
escape at Chancellorsville, but he was nearly the 
first man to go. You can’t trust premonitions.” 

^Wou just say that to encourage me, Bas. I’m 
not afraid. I wish I could win back my stripes 
first, that’s all. If anything happens to me, tell 
mother to keep the youngster with her always.” 

When Basil was gone, Tom turned his face to 
the sod and prayed. ^Dh God,” he said, pressing 
his hands to his head in the agony of thought, 
^^please give me one more chance. I know I’ve 
never kept my promises before, but I will this 
time, if I only get out of this fight alive. I’ll go 
home and begin all over again, and not fall back. 
I mean it this time. Or, if it’s all up with me, 
please take care of the baby, and don’t let him find 
out anything about his father — ” He stopped, 
confused and disconcerted. - ^‘1 don’t believe it 
does any good,” he, muttered. don’t know how 
to pray. I’m just scared, that’s what’s the matter 
with me.” He raised his head and listened. Hear 
by the bugler was standing with his instrument to 
his lips, blowing taps. The moonlight glinted 
on the brass, and the figure looked like a ghost. 
He ceased, and sank back into the earth. The re- 
frain was repeated down the long line, like ever 
decreasing echoes of the first sad notes, till it trem- 


aETTYSBURG 


329 


bled away into silence. Tom raised bis face to 
the sky, awed but unafraid. He seemed to hear 
it echo faintly above his grave. 

Meanwhile Basil was writing to Imogen by the 
feeble light of a lantern, lying on the ground ; but 
Gus was sleeping like a child. 

When morning dawned the Union army looked 
down over the valley fo Seminary Eidge where 
the Confederate batteries were posted in readiness 
for the fight. The main body of the enemy was 
concealed in the woods. Between the two armies, 
fields of ripening wheat were bending gently in 
the wind, and here and there stray cattle grazed 
quietly by the banks of a little stream, all uncon- 
scious of the impending hail of death. 

The hours of the morning wore away, and still 
neither side made a move. The soldiers of the 
Fifth Corps saw Sickles’s men below them in the 
valley, extending toward the enemy’s line through 
a wheat-field and an orchard. Basil and Tom, 
lying side by side, wondered why they had left 
the heights and gone down into such a trap; for 
they saw a wedge stretching toward the Confed- 
erates at an angle of forty-five degrees from their 
support behind. 

Suddenly there was a pufi of smoke, then an- 
other and another, and the great roar of battle 
burst over the unfortunate men in the valley. 
Sykes’s Corps was ordered to the rescue. The long 


330 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


hours of waiting under the hot July sun were at 
an end. Glad of the relief of action, the men 
sprang from the ground, where they had been ly- 
ing behind their low breastworks, and began to 
stream down the slope. Below them, a long semi- 
circle of fire and smoke swept round the Union 
lines; the air was filled with the sharp roll of 
musketry, punctuated by the deeper boom of can- 
non. The wheat-field was trampled down by the 
rush of the contending armies. In the orchard the 
fiying branches of trees, the shattered wagons, 
multiplied the grotesque shapes of death, and the 
ground became a quagmire of blood. Wounded 
horses plunged and screamed hideously. 

Little Bound Top, at the extreme south of the 
Union line, rose three hundred feet above the 
scene of battle below. There a small group of sig- 
nal men stood, the only defenders of that crucial 
position, the key of the whole army. They saw 
Sickles^s men in the orchard, surrounded by the 
long gray line, belching fire. They saw the blue 
break, and form again, as the combatants swayed 
back and forth. And then they saw the enemy’s 
line swing southward, like a great whip-lash, and 
coil about the hill on which they stood. 

The attention of the whole reserve force of the 
Union army was concentrated on the battle in 
the valley. Uo one noticed the peril that threat- 
ened them from the south, 5vhen that long last 


GETTYSBURa 


331 


should be whipped up on to the hill and begin to 
enfilade the whole ridge. Wildly the signal men 
waved their flags. The Texans of Hood^s division 
were already beginning to scale Little Round Top, 
and their yell of victory broke forth. 

Regiment after regiment streamed past the hill, 
unheeding. At last General Warren looked up. 
He saw the desperate signals and knew their mean- 
ing. He stemmed the tide of Vincent’s Brigade 
and ordered them to turn off and defend the hill. 
In a moment they changed their direction, broke 
order, and rushed up the height. Basil, Tom, and 
Gus were side by side in that race against time. 

Already they could hear the Confederate yell 
on the other slope. Which would reach the sum- 
mit first ? Upon the answer to that question de- 
pended the fate of the battle, and perhaps of the 
nation. On they went, up the steep and rocky 
side, drawing their breath in great gasps. There 
was no more thought of home, no memory of swol- 
len feet, no hunger, no weariness, no fear. The 
great cannon of Hazlett’s battery were carried bod- 
ily by those whose strength was that of madmen. 

Simultaneously the two armies reached the. top, 
and the frenzy of destruction began. They hurled 
themselves upon each other with only one thought, 
to strike and kill. Each man became a maniac in 
his desire to murder, careless if he died the next 
moment himself. There was no time to reload. 


332 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


The struggle was hand to hand. Men grasped each 
other by the throat and rolled down the hill to- 
gether, locked in the embrace of death. They 
cursed and cried in their fury. IN'ot one was ig- 
norant of the consequences of defeat, and there 
was not one who did not prefer deatl^. 

Basil was swept away from his brothers. In 
the whirl of the struggle each man could see only 
the enemy he was trying to kill. Tom fell to the 
ground, struck by the glancing blow of a musket. 
His own gun flew from his hands, and for a mo- 
ment he. lay stunned. Then he saw his assailant 
turn upon Gus, who was in the act of raising his 
musket, and bury his bayonet in his side. As the 
boy fell he gave one great cry : ^^Tom 

Often, in their boyhood days, Tom had fought 
his younger brother’s battles, and now he fought 
the bravest and last. He was unarmed, but spring- 
ing to his feet he drove his fist into the Texan’s 
face before the latter could -extricate his bayonet 
from the body at his feet. The man reeled back- 
ward. Then he raised his bloody weapon to strike 
his new assailant. With the quickness of a panther 
Tom stooped and seized a stone that at any other 
time he could scarcely have lifted. 

^^Damn you !” he yelled. ^^You let my brother 
alone ! Take that !” 

Down crashed the stone, and the Texan fell be- 
side the body of the boy he had murdered, his 


GETTYSBURG 


833 


head crushed like an eggshell. As Tom stooped 
over his brother, he fell upon him without a strug- 
gle or a groan, shot through the heart. There Basil 
found them, when the hill was won. 

At nightfall he had the bodies removed to a 
safe place, behind the lines. Once more they re- 
posed in the cemetery into which they had marched 
the previous night; hut they no longer noted the 
ghostly character of their resting place. Wrapped 
in their blankets, side by side, they slept their long 
sleep, while their brother watched beside them in 
the darkness and the rain. He thought how often 
they had shared the same bed; how many morn- 
ings, when the birds were stirring in the trees and 
the cattle were impatient in the stalls, they had 
risen, so full of life, to meet the. day. He remem- 
bered them, as now, always together ; in the school 
room, in the fields, in the bay at evening, swim- 
ming far out to meet the sunset. 

The, dead of the first day’s battle were being 
buried. The lanterns of the grave-diggers shone 
in long lines against the black earth. Basil knew 
that he could not send them home. They must lie 
together on the height they had helped so bravely 
It) save. His grief was too terrible for tears, till 
he remembered Tom’s resolve to win back his pro- 
motion; then he bowed his head upon his knees 
and wept. At home they would never know of that 
incident, so ludicrous and pathetic, by which Tom 


334 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


had lost his rank. He fancied hearing them say- 
ing tenderly to each other that Tom would have 
been a general, had he lived. 

The night wore on, and still he kept his watch. 
How he was with Imogen again on the marsh; 
now he saw her soft hair shining in the lamplight, 
while he raised his eyes from the. book he was read- 
ing to her. She held up the piece of embroidery 
and demanded that he admire it, instead of its 
maker. The rain that fell upon him was the sweet 
warm rain of that April night they had watched 
through together. Then the lanterns of the dig- 
gers flashed into his eyes, and he started up to fol- 
low them with their burdens to the grave. 

The morning dawned, still and sultry. The sky 
was covered with broken clouds through which the 
sun shone in fltful gleams. Basil returned to his 
company through the long lines lying flat on the 
ground behind the crest of the hill. The batteries 
were unlimbered, and the’ gunners rested on their 
guns, waiting for the final artillery duel of that 
tremendous struggle. Along the whole Confed- 
erate line, the signal flags were giving warning of 
the great charge. To the north he heard the sound 
of firing on Culpas Hill, where Geary’s division 
was driving back Ewell’s men. 

Along the front all was still with the stillness 
that precedes the, storm. As he walked past, he 
heard the men in the trenches talking together. 


GETTYSBURG 


335 


some careless, some serious; others snatching a 
brief sleep in the full glare of the July sun. At 
last he reached his regiment, and lay down beside 
his men on the heated rock. 

It was one o’clock in the afternoon when the 
shrill report of a Whitworth gun broke the silence, 
and then the Confederate cannon burst into flame. 
The eighty Union guns replied, and for two long 
hours the duel continued. Careless of the shells 
that screamed above his head, Basil slept fltfully, 
exhausted by grief and the exertions of the last 
two days and nights. 

At length a lull in the roar caused him to awake. 
He stood up and looked down into the valley, now 
filled with a dense cloud of smoke. The time had 
come. Every gun was in readiness ; every nerve at 
tension to meet the great assault. Basil saw that 
his men were ready, and then turned his eyes again 
toward the valley. A thrill of admiration ran 
through the Union lines. The Confederate line 
of attack, one mile in length, was plunging into 
the smoke, their bristling bayonets pricking the 
dark canopy and glinting in the sunlight. Eight- 
een thousand men poured down Seminary Eidge 
and swept in splendid order across the lower 
ground. 

There was an ominous pause. The ammunitiou 
of the Confederate cannon was exhausted, and the 
assaulting column came on unsupported, but un- 


336 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


flinching. The silence of Pickett^s men, all Vir- 
ginian veterans, was more grimly terrible than 
had been the yell of Hood’s Texans the day before. 
More than half a mile must be traversed, over 
ground sloping upward, and slippery from last 
night’s rain. 

At last the word was given, and the Union shot 
tore great gaps in the advancing lines. Still they 
closed up and came on. They could not reply as 
yet. It was slaughter, hopeless and awful. The 
guns of Little Pound Top, striking the flank of 
the enemy, seemed to blow them bodily toward the 
left. Basil saw that the height on which he stood 
would never be reached by that dauntless foe. The 
attack would strike the Union lines to the north. 
A wild longing seized him to rush into the breach, 
where the fight would be hand to hand, but he had 
to stand and wait. 

He saw the Confederates reeling upward, their 
battle flags tossing above the smoke like ragged 
sails on a stormy sea. When nearly at the sum- 
mit they returned the Union fire, and then rushed 
with fixed bayonets upon destruction. As the 
smoke closed over the struggling masses he saw the 
Virginians reeling and breaking into fragments, 
though some still rushed forward, leaped the low 
stone wall, and fought hand to hand about the can- 
non. Whole regiments of Union reenforcements 


GETTYSBURG 


337 


poured down upon them, like a resistless ava- 
lanche. 

A mighty shout went up, and the watchers on 
the tops knew that the day was won. Under that 
canopy of smoke the enemy were throwing down 
their arms and rushing forward to be taken prison- 
ers. The wreck of the mass began to stream back 
toward Seminary Eidge, diminished every instant 
by the remorseless cannonade that still continued. 
It was the fulfilment of the vision of victory 
which Gus had seen in imagination, and which he 
had given his life to realize. 

As Basil rushed forward in pursuit at the head 
of his company, he felt a sharp pang in his side. 
He staggered a few steps farther. Then a great 
wave of darkness smote him, and he knew no more. 


CHAPTEE XXIX 


PKIEST AND WOMAN 

It was evening when the news reached home 
that Tom and Gns had been killed at Gettysburg, 
and that Basil was lying in a hospital in Wash- 
ington, desperately wounded. 

Eusebius was in town, standing with the great 
crowd in front of the ^^Blade,” watching the suc- 
cessive bulletins which contained long lists of the 
killed and wounded. When he saw the names of 
all three of his brothers among the killed he pushed 
his way into the office to verify the report. He 
dared not go home while there was a shadow of 
doubt as to its truth. 

The editor stood behind the desk, looking out 
upon the crowd of white and anxious faces. 

“A telegram for your father, Mr. Ambrose,’’ 
he said, sympathetically, ^^sent in my care. I was 
just going to dispatch a messenger with it.” 

He handed the yellow slip through the window. 
At that moment their old antagonism was forgot- 
ten. The telegram was from one of the Bishop’s 
parishioners in the regiment who had put Basil on 
the train for Washington. 

Eusebius drove homeward through the gather- 

338 


PRIEST AND WOMAN 


339 


ing dusk, his ears still ringing with the confused 
cries of the throng, the pitiful weeping of the, be- 
reaved mingled with shouts of triumph. The full 
significance of the tidings dawned hut slowly on 
his mind. Then his first great doubt of the loving 
kindness of God rose within him, and banished for 
a time the simple faith he had cherished. Keason- 
ing was of no avail. He could not yet see that it 
was glorious to die in such a cause, nor wrong to 
demand that they alone should he spared the in- 
curable sorrow which had come into so many 
households. His faith lost its moorings and drift- 
ed away on a sea of agonized protest. Above all, 
he feared for his father. 

For two years the Bishop had been a changed 
man. Eusebius, more than any one else, divined 
his father’s longing for a chance to begin anew 
with Tom, to deal more justly with him and to 
atone, as far as he could, for the old wrong. But 
now it was too late. The long tale of misunder- 
standing and injustice had come to a sudden and 
awful end. How could the old man live with that 
ghost beside him? 

At the memory of the love between his two broth- 
ers he wept for the first time. Poor Gus ! How 
like the younger brother always ! Like J onathan 
and David they had been lovely and pleasant in 
their lives, and in their death they were not di- 
vided. 


340 


THE EIGHTIHa BISHOP 


When he entered the living room at home he 
found them sitting about the lamp. 

^^Basil is alive,” he cried, ^^hut Tom and Gus, 
they — ^they — ” 

Then arose a great and hitter cry. He threw 
his arms about his father and mother, and they 
wept aloud. Then they kissed each other and 
the children. After the first passion of grief the 
Bishop was strangely calm. 

^Tt is my punishment, Martha,” he said, sol- 
emnly. ^Hut you, my poor Martha, and my boys I 
You, at least, were free, from sin. How I know 
that God has chastened me. The time is short. 
We shall see them again, but not here.” 

He had scarcely spoken when the door was flung 
open, and Anna rushed into the room. 

^^Wliat is it?” she cried. ^Y^ou are keeping 
something from me. 0 my Tom, my poor boy!” 

Her eyes caught sight of the telegram, lying 
on the table, and she took it up. Then she 
screamed : 

^Yhey have killed him! My Tom is dead!” 

The Bishop turned and faced her, his arm 
about his wife. There was a sudden silence as their 
eyes met. What had she to do with their grief, 
she with her finery and her complaints? How 
had she behaved in her husband’s absence ? Dur- 
ing the last two years her levity had mocked their 
anxiety. By sheer persistence she had almost es- 


PEIEST AND WOMAN 


341 


tablislied a social coterie of her own, snch as it 
was, and many of her evenings were spent in 
town. 

^^Silence, woman !’’ he said sternly. ^^What have 
you to do with this sorrow? Have you been re- 
penting of your shortcomings as a wife during 
your husband’s absence? That was the time to 
watch and pray. How it is too late.” 

She shrank into a chair, trembling. Then he 
took his Prayer Book and read : 

am the resurrection and the life, saith the 
Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were 
dead, yet shall he live ; and whosoever liveth and 
believeth in me shall never die.” 

His eyes kindled with a wonderful triumph as 
he continued, unfaltering: 

know that my Bedeemer liveth, and that he 
shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and 
though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet 
in my flesh shall I see God ; whom I shall see for 
myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not an- 
other.” 

He read the following sentences through, and 
when he paused they sat hushed, though Mrs. 
Ambrose wept quietly, with her arms about her 
youngest children. 

The day had been close and hot, and now a 
strong wind stirred the trees outside with a sudden 


342 


THE EiaHTING BISHOP 


gust. A loose shutter slammed violently against 
the sill. Eusebius rose and looked out. 

As far as his eyes could see, the sky was filled 
with a lurid glow. At the same time they heard 
the rush of feet and a shrill and terrible cry : ^^The 
marsh is on fire!’^ They hurried into the yard. 
To the west, great tongues of fiame shot up against 
the night, driven steadily nearer by the gale, roll- 
ing forward dense clouds of smoke. The trees of 
the intervening woods, silhouetted against that sin- 
ister light, began to sway in the rush of hot wind 
that smote them as from the mouth of a furnace. 
There had been a long drought, and the forest was 
as dry as tinder. Between the woods and the barns 
was a wheat field. If the wind held, the fire would 
leap that narrow barrier. 

In an instant the Bishop saw the peril and took 
command. He called to his old servant: 

^^Quick, Jake, the plough ! We must clear a belt 
through the wheat field. The rest of you run and 
get sacks from the barn and dip them in the 
trough. There ’s not a moment to lose !” 

When the plough was brought, he took the brad 
himself, in spite of protests. A strange excite- 
ment possessed him. He seemed to have sloughed 
the infirmities of age and to expand with the 
strength in which he had once gloried. The oxen 
tossed their yoke and snorted with fear, but he 
kept them straight in the furrow. The old words 


PRIEST AND WOMAN 


343 


of command, the rustic and came 

back to his lips. 

Only his wife had ever before seen him follow- 
ing the plough, in the old days when they first en- 
tered the wilderness together. To them all it was 
a strange sight ; the old man, his white hair and 
beard streaming in the wind, tramping through 
the wheat in the weird light of the coming fire, 
fiercely exulting in the action that relieved the 
anguish of his soul. 

The fire had reached the farther side of the 
woods by the time he had traversed the field a few 
times and left behind him a broad belt of up- 
turned earth. The heat became intense and drove 
them back. The oxen ran toward the barns, bel- 
lowing with terror. A great roar filled the air, as 
the flames swept through the underbrush of the 
forest. The larger trees, wrapped in spirals of 
flame, seemed to writhe in agony as they bent be- 
fore the storm. They heard the horses neighing 
and stamping in their stalls. 

^^There^s no use trying to lead them out the 
Bishop cried. ^^We must save the barn.” 

Standing behind the trench with the wet sacks 
in their hands, they awaited the approach of the 
fire. Whenever a spark lighted the wheat, they 
beat it out. On the ridge-tree of the barn Euse- 
bius poured water upon the kindling shingles, 
while Cecily supplied him from below. 


344 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


It seemed tliat flesh and blood could no longer 
endure the agony of heat. Already the barn was 
blazing in more places than Eusebius could reach. 
He turned to look at the house and saw that a 
spark was nestling near the ridge-tree and grow- 
ing brighter. The barn must be abandoned. He 
descended quickly to the ground and ran toward 
the house, snatching a pail of water as he passed 
the trough. 

So intent had they been upon the battle that no 
one noted the few large drops of rain that fell 
hissing into the flames. Suffocated, exhausted, 
blackened with soot, they were retreating before 
the destroyer. And then, when human power was 
at an end, the rain descended. It seemed as if a 
cloud had burst above their heads. Down came 
the pelting torrent. The smoke on the roofs was 
turned to steam. Pausing where they stood, they 
raised their burning hands and faces to the cool, 
abundant rain that had saved them. They 
loosened their garments and let it in upon their 
parched skin. Ah, how good it was! They re- 
turned to the house, drenched and muddy, and 
sank down, listening to the tempest beating upon 
the roof and windows. 

When at last they lighted the lamps and looked 
about, Anna was nowhere to be found. Then they 
remembered that she had not been seen since the 
first alarm of fire was given. Her little boy ran in. 


PEIEST AND WOMAN 


345 


clad in his night gown. He had watched the fire 
from an upstairs window, his childish mind grasp- 
ing only the splendor of the sight. He could 
give no account of his mother. The Bishop^s 
conscience smote him. 

^^Do you think she was caught by the fire?’’ 
he asked, anxiously. 

^^Ho,” Eusebius answered; suppose she ran 
away, and was caught by the rain.” 

He took a lantern from the shelf and lighted it. 

^T’ll go and bring her back,” he said. ^^Don’t 
worry. You must take a glass of wine and go to 
bed.” 

He left the house and took the road for the 
city. 

The storm was now raging in all its fury. The 
deep ruts of the road were filled with water. The 
trees bent before the wind and broken branches 
whirled through the air. About a mile from the 
house he found Anna, beating her way back 
against the gale. She ran to him and clung to 
his arm. 

^T’m so frightened !” she gasped. knew you 
would come and save me, dear, good Eusebius.” 

They struggled on together. The lantern went 
out and left them in darkness. Only the vivid 
flashes of lightning disclosed the gleaming road 
for an instant, and then the night swallowed them 
up. When they reached the ruins of the unfinished 


346 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


school they could go no farther. Exhausted, they 
sank down behind the stone wall of the foundation 
and waited for the wind to abate. 

She nestled close against him and rested her 
head upon his breast. Eor some moments he made 
no movement, for she seemed to need his comfort 
and support. Suddenly he realized that it was not 
thus she clung to him. His pulses stirred at her 
touch, and he shook himself free. His voice rang 
out above the storm. 

^^Anna, what are you? How could you leave 
your child in danger, and think only of saving 
yourself at such a time V’ 

He attempted to rise, but she threw herself upon 
him and held him fast. 

^^Scold me!’^ she cried. deserve it. But I 
was so afraid, Eusebius dear. I know I was 
wicked, but I couldn’t help it, any more than I 
can help liking to have you scold me, because I am 
so weak and you are so brave and strong. I want 
you to scold me. I want you to punish me in any 
way you think best. You can do what you will.” 

He struggled feebly. Exhausted by his pre- 
vious herculean exertions, and bewildered by a 
strange intoxication, he desisted, and allowed her 
to put her arms about his neck. 

^Hlave you forgotten Tom?” he asked, a prey 
to sudden horror. 

^^He is gone,” she whispered, Her mouth close 


PRIEST AND WOMAN 


347 


to his ear, and her warm breath upon his face. 

never loved me, and he cannot care now. 
It is you alone I love, and I never loved any one 
else. I may have thought that I did, but it was a 
foolish dream. I was only waiting for you. I 
know you despise me, hut I can’t help it ; a woman 
is so weak when she loves. Can’t you see how long 
I have loved you? And now we are free. Say 
something to me, anything! Scold me for my 
weakness; heat me if you will, dear, but forgive 
me 1” 

He felt her lips upon his own, and flung her 
from him. 

^^Ho 1” he cried, springing to his feet. ^^We are 
not alone ! This is not love 1 This is — ' — ” 

She clung to his knees. ^Tove 1” she cried. 

^Tove!” he echoed. For the first time in his 
life his laugh was hitter. ^^You have used that 
word too often to know what it means. Come ; we 
must go.” 

The fury of the storm was spent, and a few 
stars sent down a watery gleam upon the rain- 
soaked earth. In the distance a lamp in the win- 
dow at home shone out against the surrounding 
darkness. They walked in silence and apart, 
splashing wearily through the puddles and the 
mud. 

Again the desolation of tragedy and loss with 


348 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


whicla the evening had begun returned to Euse- 
bius and Anna’s voice startled him. 

^^Just one word before we part. You may not 
believe me — I can scarcely expect that you should 
— ^but I told the truth. I never really loved Ber- 
nard — he frightened me — nor Tom, poor boy. But 
I did love you. I want you to believe that what I 
said to-night was true, and not despise me.” 

don’t despise you,” he answered. despise 
myself.” 

When they returned to the house, he comforted 
his father and mother as best he could, and then 
went back to his room above the old school. Weary 
as he was, he took a cold bath in an empty room he 
had fitted up for that purpose, before thinking 
of rest. He felt unclean in body and soul. Then 
he drew up his easy chair beside the lamp and sat 
down to read. Before him stood his prayer-desk, 
and in the alcove his bed shone cool and inviting ; 
but he could neither pray nor sleep as yet. 

The book was ^Tilgrim’s Progress.” There 
was something in the quaintness and sincerity of 
the allegory that always appealed to him like the 
call of a trumpet. To-night it did not fail him. 
Ever in the background, as he read, loomed, the 
figures of his brothers and himself, toiling along 
that narrow way, and when he put down the book 
he sat in the ^^chamber of peace.” It had been 
a black day for him. He had doubted his God, 


PEIEST AITD WOMAiq" 


349 


and liad all but yielded to the scarlet woman, but 
now his face was turned once more toward the 
“Celestial City.’’ 

The next day he went to see Imogen. As he 
came up the driveway he saw a wreath of white 
roses hanging on the door-knocker and knew that 
Mr. Brierly was dead. The old philosopher had 
often spoken with disapproval of the gloomy fu- 
neral customs of the Christians, and had made his 
daughter promise that no sable emblems of mourn- 
ing should attend his entrance into the Hirvana 
toward which his soul had so long been traveling. 
Imogen met him at the door, dressed all in-white, 
her face strangely serene, though worn with watch- 
ing. 

“He passed away yesterday morning,” she said. 
“And you have had a great sorrow, too. But Basil 
is alive, and needs me. You must take, me to him.” 

Eusebius kissed her as if she were a saint, and 
at that sacred moment the memory of the other 
woman fell between them like a sinister shadow. 


CHAPTEE XXX 


Iiq- THE HOSPITAL WAED 

As they sat side by side in the car on their 
way to Washington people turned to look at them 
and wondered who they were. The short, thick- 
set clergyman, with his strange, wild face and 
scraggy black heard, his head-like eyes and big 
spectacles, was a figure to attract attention any- 
where; hut by contrast with the sweet. Madonna- 
like face of his companion, he was even more 
striking. 

Poor Eusebius ! He thought he had conquered 
once and for good his wandering fancy, but now 
the temptation returned in the guise of an angel 
of light. He had battled with a known enemy and 
prevailed, but now a more subtle thought assailed 
him. It was the ^^Elatterer,’’ the ^^man black of 
fiesh, but covered with a very light Kobe,” who 
came to lead him from the straight and narrow 
way and to cast him into a net. 

, They spoke often of Basil, and somehow there 
was a vague pain in his heart as he, realized the 
love she bore him. He recognized also a kinship 
between them and saw the reason of their love. 
There v/as something in each so different from his 
350 


Iiq- THE HOSPITAL WARD 


351 


own orient nature, something that suggested blue 
spaces of sky and snow-capped mountains. Behind 
his own personality loomed Gothic architecture 
and stained-glass windows, or the gorgeous image 
of the City of God. Yet in him the ascetic was 
ever striving for the mastery. He wondered which 
of them had influenced the other, until their na- 
tures, even thus early, were akin. However that 
might be, he could not fail to see that her thought 
was only for her lover. 

During their long intervals of silence the young 
priest asked himself fiercely what it was he wanted, 
and the question found no answer. Often he 
brought her a cup of water for the sake of her smile 
and thanks. Why should they mean so much to 
him? Where were his fancies drifting? What 
credit could he now take to himself for his resist- 
ance to Anna ? Suppose he had loved her ; would 
he have resisted with such a fine show of righteous 
indignation? He had brought his ^Tilgrim’s 
Progress’’ with him, and, taking it from his 
pocket, he tried to read. The book had lost its 
power. He was ever conscious of that beautiful 
profile against the flying landscape, and her faint- 
est movement thrilled him. 

^^What are you reading?” she asked. 

He showed her the title. ^^Did you ever read it ?” 

‘‘1 tried to, once, but I didn’t care for it. That 
was years ago. I liked the story pretty well, but 


352 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


there were such long conversations between the 
incidents. Perhaps it would interest me more 
now.” 

always take a book with me,” he explained. 
^^Sometimes Burton’s ^Anatomy of Melancholy,’ 
sometimes Taylor’s ^Holy Living,’ or ^Holy 
Dying,’ or perhaps a copy of Donne or George 
Herbert; hut this is one of my favorites. Would 
you like to renew your acquaintance with it? I 
have something else to read.” 

She took the hook and read for some time in 
silence. The afternoon was waning, and he noticed 
that her attention wandered. They put down their 
hooks. 

^Hid you find it interesting this time?” he 
asked. 

^Wes, hut from the point of view of an outsider. 
It seems very dreary to me; there’s so much 
agony and striving. Is it so hard to he good ? 
I don’t mean,” she added hastily, ^That I con- 
sider myself good, hut it seems to me that if I took 
this hook to heart I should he too busy thinking 
of my sins to find time for anything else. To 
think too much of sin is to challenge a trial of 
strength. The struggle seems to he manufactured, 
so to speak.” 

^^Ah, hut life is just that kind of battle,” he 
declared, his dark eyes hashing in the gloom. ^^We 
may shut our eyes, hut the enemy is there. We 


IIT THE HOSPITAL >VAED 


353 


cannot ignore him. We cannot hide onr heads 
in the sand, like the ostrich. That’s the reason 
I like this hook. The story of Christian’s temp- 
tations, and failures, and final triumph, is an in- 
spiration. It stiffens the moral fiber.” 

^Terhaps I haven’t any moral fiber to stiffen,” 
she said, with a smile. ^T’m one of the unwar- 
like.” 

^^1^0,” he protested. ^Tn you there is nothing 
for the temptation to appeal to, and so you are not 
even conscious of it. You are a Diana. But with 
us it is different. A woman’s virtue is instinctive 
and sure, but ours is acquired. With us it is al- 
ways storm and stress.” 

^^How would you like to he called heathen 
names ?” she retorted, with an effort at gayety. 

^^Apollo, for example,” he suggested, with hitter 
humor. 

His tone startled her, and she could think of no 
reply. His type was so far from the Greek. Did 
he long for physical beauty, this priest, whom she 
had always considered a being divorced from such 
desires ? 

Meanwhile he, too, was thinking. He felt that 
she had put him down. Perhaps her unwarlike at- 
titude befitted a woman ; but with a man It was 
otherwise. Her father, for example, seemed a 
deserter from the ranks. He felt that a life of 
moral adventure, attended by mistakes and sins, 


354 


THE FIGHTIHG BISHOP 


but crowned with ultimate victory, was far better 
than tbe life of a recluse who lived on his income 
and spent his dreamy days in speculation. 

When the lamps were lighted she was startled to 
encounter a look in his eyes which she had never 
seen in them before. She was not the kind of 
woman whose instinct leads her to strive for a per- 
sonal tribute from men, and at this time, espe- 
cially, she was least prepared to expect it. But the 
look was there, wistful, mystic, intense. She was 
distressed, and a little frightened. An indescrib- 
able difference crept into her manner toward him, 
and he who w^as usually so brilliant and talkative 
•was baffled and chilled, he knew not how. Their 
frank relationship had been destroyed by his own 
unexpressed, and even unacknowledged, thought. 
He told himself that he would not have lost all, had 
he been content with what she could give him. 
For some time he sat in silence, suffering the tor- 
tures of a soul cast out from Paradise. 

At last he bid her good-night and went forward 
into another car. Imogen, left alone, reclined on 
the rude couch which served in those days for a 
berth in sleeping cars, and thought of her lover. 
Her hair glimmered in the dim lamplight like a 
halo amid the uncouth forms of the sleepers. 

Eusebius sat alone. The primitive man was 
aroused within him and battling with the priest 
of God. What change had come over him since 


IN THE HOSPITAL WARD 


355 


the news of his brothers’ deaths ? All the old land- 
marks were swept away, and he wandered in an 
unknown country where evil thoughts, like evil 
spirits, gibed and jeered at him. He tried 
to pray, but the words seemed like a meaningless 
incantation, a recourse to superstition. He let him- 
self go in thoughts of her, and then drew back 
from the sacrilege with a groan. He groped for 
something to cling to, and, failing that, for some- 
thing to divert his thought. His brothers’ faces 
rose before him. He would think of death. He 
would contemplate it in all its hideousness, and 
confront his longing with that gruesome image. 
His mind trod instinctively the path of medieval 
thought, of the monk in his cell who gazed for 
long hours upon a skull, his daily ^^memento 
mori/' 

The night wore on. What ages had passed since 
the kiss he gave her had instilled the poison of 
desire into his blood ! Blessed moments of lethargy 
stole upon him. He saw the light of a solitary 
farm house flash by, or the street of a town strag- 
gle off into the darkness, and his fancy became 
fantastic. What if he were suddenly to find him- 
self standing outside on the track, watching the 
rapidly disappearing train ? He pictured himself 
knocking at some darkened door for admittance, 
and finding monk, or dragon, or knight within. 
But the terror returned. It struggled to break 


356 THE EIGHTING BISHOP 

through the mesh of dreams, and then suddenly 
hurst in upon him. He was a fallen man ; he was 
estranged from God ! After preaching to others, 
he had become a castaway. 

At that darkest moment the light broke, upon 
him. Pardon was his all the time, and he knew 
it not ! A glow suffused his whole being, and the 
glad tears fell. All his Church teaching, all the 
dear home memories, returned in a flood of bless- 
ing. The religious mysticism of his nature tri- 
umphed, and he sank back with closed eyes, his 
soul irradiated by a vision of the love of God. 
"WTien he met Imogen the next morning she was 
touched by the change she could not deflne; she 
knew that she need never fear him again, for re- 
nunciation had laid its benediction upon him. 

On the third evening they reached the ward in 
which Basil lay; a long, low, white-washed, 
wooden building on the bank of the Potomac, one 
of the many temporary structures of the kind that 
gave Washington at that time the appearance of a 
great hospital. They were not unfamiliar with 
the wrecks which war sends back from the front, 
but here the concentration of woe was appalling. 
The streets were filled with convalescent soldiers, 
and now and then a company under arms, or a bat- 
tery of artillery, passed by. Somewhere they heard 
a band playing ^^The Star-Spangled Banner^’^ 

They stood in the doorway and looked down 


IN THE HOSPITAL WARD 


357 


the long, double row of cots. The lamps, fixed 
along the wall at intervals, threw a dubious light 
upon the white faces of the sufferers and the sur- 
geons and nurses moving from one to the other. 
The hot air of the July night was tainted with the 
odor of blood and anesthetics. Many sickening 
sights had met Imogen’s eyes that day, and she 
was near to fainting. She supported herself by 
her companion’s arm and they walked slowly down 
the aisle together, glancing to right and left. Many 
low moans came to their ears, and one poor fellow, 
happily insane from suffering, was talking wildly 
to the phantoms of his disordered imagination. 

Trom the bedside of a sleeping soldier a large 
figure rose and confronted them, a man of be- 
nevolent aspect, with a mist of gray hair and beard 
framing his ruddy face. He made a warning ges- 
ture. 

^^Are you looking for Basil ?” he asked ; ^^Basil 
Ambrose ? He said you would come. I know you 
by his description. He asked me not to let you 
pass him by, if he were asleep. He feared you 
might not know him, poor boy.” 

The sleeper turned restlessly toward the light. 
How changed he was from the lover who had 
marched away in all the glory of his strength and 
youth ! His unkempt beard increased the impres- 
sion of pallor and emaciation. He opened his eyes 
and looked into hers. With a low cry she sank 


358 


THE EIGIITING BISHOP 


upon her knees beside him and folded him in her 
arms. 

The large man moved away, leaving them alone 
with the patient in whom he had taken such a lov- 
ing interest. His heart was filled with tender- 
ness, and his eyes were moist as he stopped at other 
cots with words of comfort and cheer. After 
awhile he returned for his large haversack. 

^AVell, Basil, my boy, you’re all right now,” 
he said, heartily. told you she’d come. It 
won’t be long before you’re up, hey ?” 

^^Hotnow, Walt,” Basil replied, radiant. Tears 
of happiness came to his eyes. He spoke to Imogen 
and Eusebius. fT want you to know what he has 
done for me. He kept up my courage. I think 
I owe him my life.” 

^^Honsense,” the other replied, forestalling their 
gratitude. ^ We’ve just had a few talks. I must 
be looking after my other boys.” He picked up his 
haversack and moved away. 

^Who is he, dearest?” Imogen asked. 

^Walt Whitman, but we all call him Walt,’ and 
he calls us by our first names, too. He comes 
here every day with oranges and flowers and such 
things. See this.” He held up a yellow rose. ^Tt 
made me think of you.” 

Basil’s wound, though dangerous, was not fatal, 
and before Imogen left the ward that night she 
learned from one of the surgeons that his recovery 


IN THE HOSPITAL WAED 


359 


was merely a matter of time. Eusebius took her to 
a hotel, where she was destined to live for some 
months. 

The name of Walt Whitman had conveyed no 
impression to Imogen’s mind, hut Eusebius recog- 
nized at once the author of ^^Leaves of Grass,” a 
book which had come into his hands about three 
years before. He remembered that his father 
read a few pages and then burst forth into a laugh 
of contemptuous amusement and denunciation. 
But Eusebius could not dismiss the strange bard so 
easily. The sensuality of the poet repelled him, 
and he chuckled at his lack of humor and his 
cataloguing tendencies, but back of it all he felt 
a great fascination. There was something cosmic 
and elemental in the rhapsodist that caused a re- 
sponsive echo in his heart. The ^^stitched songs” 
smote him like a wind from the north and made 
him draw a deeper breath. How, so unexpectedly, 
the author was before him, a ministering angel in 
the hospital ward, to whom he owed, perhaps, his 
brother’s life. 

The next day he watched eagerly for his return. 
About three o’clock the poet entered with his huge 
haversack, with parcels under his arms, and pro- 
truding pockets. Eusebius was more than ever 
struck with his appearance. His fresh pink skin 
suggested a recent bath, and his loose, ill-fitting 
clothes were perfectly clean. There was a sprig 


360 


THE FIGHTIHO BISHOP 


of green in tlie lapel of his coat ; he seemed to be 
dressed for a gala day. 

He gave Basil a few flowers, and hurried on to 
avoid Imogen’s gratitude. Eusebius followed him. 

^^Mr. Whitman,” he said, have known you 
before through your poems, but I did not know 
that you were living your doctrine of brotherhood 
in this way. I wish you would let me go with 
you.” 

He was thrilled by the gaze that was turned 
upon him. The eyes were gray, brooding, and 
magnetic. 

^^Come on,” he said. ^^There’s plenty to do.” 

Eusebius saw the smile of affectionate welcome 
that lighted the soldiers’ faces as his companion 
came up. He distributed his gifts, and seemed to 
know what each one wanted. He inquired after 
their wounds and cheered them with a few hearty 
words. He dispensed oranges, flowers, cigars, 
pipes and tobacco, writing-paper, stamps; any- 
thing they had asked for or that his own sympathy 
had suggested. His presence was large and rest- 
ful, like nature. He spoke to no man of his sins, 
but appealed to their affections, their hopes of 
recovery, and their longing for home. The priest 
could not fail to see that few were interested in 
his own presence or required his ministrations. 
Whitman had won them all by his loving service, 
and they greeted him eagerly from cot to cot. As 


IIT iTHE HOSPITAL WAED 


361 


they neared the door the men called after him: 
^^Walt, Walt, come again!’’ 

Another day the poet came in with a deep basket 
on his arm, filled with flowers. As he passed 
along, distributing them, a muffled chirping in the 
basket grew louder. The men raised themselves 
on their elbows and looked about. 

thought I heard a chicken somewheres, 
Walt,” said a gaunt, raw-boned westerner. 
^^Seemed like I was home again.” 

Whitman dipped down into the basket and 
brought forth a yellow, fluffy ball of a chicken 
which now redoubled its cries of distress. The 
man took it gently in his large palm. 

^T’ve raised hundreds of those little critters,” 
he mused, his face aglow with tender memories. 
A ripple of laughter ran around the ward, and 
cries of ^Tass it along 1” It was a curious sight 
to see those bearded men passing the chirping lit- 
tle creature from hand to hand, with laughter and 
jokes that were near to tears. Eusebius was deep- 
ly touched. This poet had taught him a great 
lesson. He, too, now ministered in the hospital 
wards, chiefly to those of his own Church, of whom 
he found many ; and the two men met on the com- 
mon ground of humanity. 

^^Come and see me to-night,” Whitman said, 
^^about ten o’clock, when I have finished my letter 
to the Times.’ ” 


362 


THE EiaHTINa BISHOP 


He found the room full of young men, and 
blue with tobacco smoke. Their talk was of many 
things ; of the war, of poetry, religion, institutions, 
and life. They all sat, as it were, at Whitman’s 
feet to learn, though he was far from assuming 
the airs of a teacher. 

^T’m neither for nor against institutions,” he 
declared, in reply to a question from Eusebius. 

am for a broader and more loving relationship 
between the men and women of America. I am 
for a healthy, unashamed recognition of the facts 
of life.” 

The other’s controversial instinct was aroused, 
and the talk became warm, though without bitter- 
ness. 

^^You can’t tie up truth in words and creeds,” 
said Whitman. ^^There’s no such thing as a ‘De- 
posit of Truth.’ If church members weren’t 
broader than their creeds the world would dry up, 
like a squeezed lemon.” 

He beamed upon Eusebius affectionately, tow- 
ering opposite him, like a benevolent buffalo with 
much hair. “There’s nothing new in your doc- 
trine of friendship,” the priest remarked. “I’m 
bound to remind you of that, much as I value your 
insistence upon it. The Church, to which you 
give so little credit, has transmitted the tradition 
to you from Christ himself.” 

“Eusebius,” he retorted, startling him by using 


IN THE HOSPITAL WARD 


363 


his first name, as if he had always done so, ^^I’m 
not against the churches. If s all there, as you 
say, hut it’s overlaid with a lot of forms and cere- 
monies and symbols.” 

^^Then you don’t believe in symbols ?” 

do not. I believe in human nature, not in 
scholastic inventions.” 

^^Then you don’t believe in the flag; for what 
is the flag but a symbol of the great ideals of the 
country ? It isn’t a mere rag. You mustn’t blame 
my devotion to the symbol of the cross.” 

The poet’s laugh was as hearty as that of the 
others. ^Tt’s wonderful,” he mused, ^Svhat men 
will do for the flag. There was a young fellow in 
a cavalry regiment who showed me a flag stained 
with his blood that cost the lives of four men. He 
had helped to recapture it, and was the only one 
who came back alive. But he’s dead now, poor 
fellow. He gave it to me as a present, just before 
he died. It was a little flag, fifteen by ten inches, 
and he died to save it from capture, but I never 
heard him say it wasn’t worth the sacrifice, during 
all those weeks of suffering.” 

Bor some days longer Eusebius worked in the 
wards by the poet’s side, and they became fast 
friends. It was inevitable that Whitman’s rich 
humanity should influence him for good, but intel- 
lectually he remained unconvinced of error, as far 
as the Church was concerned. He observed that 


364 ?rHE FIGHTING BISHOP 

Basil and Imogen were more like husband and 
wife than like lovers, and his renunciation became 
complete. One day he found his brother propped 
up in bed, smoking a pipe while Imogen read to 
him. ^^Bas,’’ he said solemnly, ^^I’m glad youVe 
contracted a small vice at last. I think it was the 
pipe that pulled you through. If you hadn’t 
learned how to smoke you would have been too 
good to live.” Basil laughed. ^^IVe solved a lot 
of knotty theological questions this way, Seeb. I 
just blow them away in smoke.” The priest made 
a comical grimace. ^^Too much Whitman, — ^too 
much Whitman,” he murmured. ^^Wait till I get 
you home again !” 

He had written home of Basil’s safety, and 
soon a letter came from his father asking him to 
return at once and take charge of the work. The 
Bishop had received strange news of Stephen from 
Mr. Dunn which caused him grave anxiety, and 
he was going to Hew York to bring him home. 

When he parted from Whitman, the poet gave 
Eusebius an atfectionate farewell hug. There was 
a subtle kinship between them, in spite of their in- 
tellectual antagonism, and as he took his way to- 
ward the station he said softly to himself : ^^And 
other sheep I have which are not of this fold.” 


CHAPTEK XXXI 


STEPHEIT PREVAILS AGAINST HIS FOES 

The Bishop reached Xew York on Monday- 
morning, the thirteenth of July. He went at once 
to Stephen's hoarding house, hut his son was not 
there. Sheets of manuscript music were scattered 
about the room. The furniture, was covered with 
dust, and everything was in confusion. The land- 
lady informed him that his son had not been seen 
for several days. She had made up his bed, hut 
did not dare to put his music-room in order. 

^^He might return, sir,’^ she explained, ^^and 
find I’d displaced something. He gets so excited 
that I’m afraid to touch a thing, even to dust up 
a hit. He won’t let me come in this room at all.” 

He was greatly troubled, and questioned her 
further. 

^Tor days and days he’d hardly come out of his 
room,” she continued; ^^and he kept playing on 
the piano and singing. He was so angry when I 
called him to meals that I got into the way of 
leaving something for him to eat on a tray outside 
his door. Sometimes he ate it, and sometimes he 
never touched it at all. Yesterday he didn’t go 
to play the organ at church. Mr. Dunn came 
365 


366 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


down in the afternoon to find out where he was, 
but I hadn’t seen him for days. I don’t know 
where he is.” 

The Bishop cleared his throat and looked at 
her narrowly. 

^Ts there anything — I might say ^peculiar’ 
about his actions?” 

She evaded the question. 

^‘1 haven’t seen much of him for a long time. 
He won’t talk to me, sir, nor to the other boarders. 
He calls us ^bourgeois/ 

A step was heard ascending the stairs, and the 
woman started nervously. She looked out into the 
hall. It happened to be one of the other boarders 
on his way to his room overhead. He saw her 
and called out as he passed : 

^There’s a riot up on Broadway, and shooting 
going on, right and left. They’re resisting the 
draft, and chasing niggers through the streets. I 
don’t care to get in the way of that sort of thing 
myself.” 

As he spoke the sound of firearms and a volley 
of fierce shouts reached their ears as from a dis- 
tance, heard above the traffic of the streets. The 
Bishop grew pale, but not for himself. The woman 
divined his fears. 

‘^He’s very nervous,” she said, ^^and I think 
that if there’s any trouble he’ll be sure to come 
back here.” 


STEPHEN PREVAILS 


367 


^^Perhaps I^d better wait awhile/’ he replied; 
and she left him alone. 

He went into the bedroom and saw on the bu- 
reau the daguerreotypes of himself and his wife 
propped against the mirror. A slip of paper was 
pasted beneath each picture. He found, upon ex- 
amination, that the papers contained bars of music, 
that under his own picture being written in the 
bass clef, and that under his wife’s in the treble. 
The idea pleased him and he took the pictures to 
the piano. He tried to play them together, and 
the result was a strange discord. With a sudden 
sinking of spirits, he desisted, and began to walk 
restlessly up and down the room, waiting and 
praying for his son’s return. He took note of the 
pictures on the walls. They were all heads of 
famous musicians, and under each was pasted a 
slip of music. A sheet of music lay on the piano, 
at the top of which, in Stephen’s handwriting, 
were the words ^^A HATIOHAL AHTHEM.” 
Again he tried to play, but the key was E sharp, 
and the music intricate. Yet he could see, as he 
stumbled through it, that the composition was one 
of rare wildness and beauty. 

At last he could stand the suspense no longer. 
He went down stairs and asked the landlady to 
let Stephen know of his arrival, in case he should 
return in his absence. Then he went to Broad- 
way and took the car for Mr. Dunn’s rectory. 


368 


THE EIGHTIHG BISHOP 


Since his early walk through the streets in the 
morning, everything had changed. It was now 
near noon, and he saw crowds of people streaming 
hy as if in panic. A negro dashed across the 
front of the car, pursued hy a crowd of boys and 
men with a rope, crazy with the lust of murder, 
shouting ^^Hang him ! Hang the damned nigger 

People on the street hurriedly sought the shelter 
of doorways, and a squad of police rushed by in 
pursuit of the rioters. A pistol shot shattered the 
car window. The few passengers crouched 
on the floor for shelter, not knowing when an- 
other would follow. The Bishop stepped out on 
the front platform and looked this way and that 
in the hope of seeing his son. 

As the car reached Twenty-ninth Street it was 
stopped by a dense and angry mob. The provost- 
mar shahs office at the corner had just been raided 
and the drafting stopped. Por no particular rea- 
son the hostility of the rioters was directed against 
the car; the traces were cut, the horses released, 
and the passengers driven out. The Bishop was 
hustled from the platform. His venerable appear- 
ance and undaunted aspect compelled respect, and 
the crowd gave way before him because they saw 
by his face and demeanor that he expected nothing 
else. One rude fellow blocked his way offensively 
as he reached the sidewalk, and uttered a ribald 
remark about religion. The Bishop pushed him 


STEPHEIT PREVAILS 


369 


from the curb. The rioter raised himself and 
looked about for a stone. It might have fared ill 
then with the Bishop, but at that very moment a 
great shout arose, and all turned to see the cause. 

The buildings on the other side of the street 
were on fire. Dense clouds of smoke were belch- 
ing from the upper windows. He passed on, un- 
molested, and reached Thirty-fifth Street without 
further incident. Mr. Dunn was descending the 
steps as he came up. 

received your telegram. Bishop,’’ he said, 
^^but I haven’t been able to find him anywhere. 
He disappeared a few days ago. Yesterday he 
failed to come and play the organ, and this morn- 
ing I have looked for him in vain. It’s very dan- 
gerous to be on the streets. Have you been to his 
rooms ?” 

The Bishop told him of his disappointment, 
and he continued : 

^^There’s just one, clue, but I can hardly believe 
it. The janitor says he saw him this morning in 
a crowd of rioters, actually leading them. Of 
course, the janitor may be entirely mistaken; he 
probably is. I merely mention it, because it’s the 
only clue I have. He was said to be singing.” 

^^Singing ?” the Bishop gasped. ^^What ?” 

The rector feared he might fall, and grasped 
him gently but firmly by the arm. 

can’t imagine ; unless the poor boy’s mind is 


370 THE FIGHTING BISHOP 

deranged, and he is singing his national anthem. 
I’m afraid he has worked too hard over it. He’s 
been at it for some time, and he has complained 
bitterly that no one would accept it as the national 
hymn. He often said that ^Yankee Doodle’ and 
the ^Star-Spangled Banner’ were inferior from a 
musical standpoint, and that he could do much bet- 
ter.” 

^^Tell me all you know !” the Bishop cried, pite- 
ously. ^^If he has lost his mind, it may he — it may 
be, after all, that — ” He covered his eyes with 
his hand and leaned against the railing. 

^Y’m afraid it’s something of that kind,” the 
rector admitted, sadly. ^^But come in and get a 
glass of wine. You will need it. After that we’ll 
go to look for him together. I’ve reported the 
matter to the police already, but they have their 
hands so full of trouble that I fear we can expect 
no help from them.” 

Mr. Dunn really knew more than he had told. 
The janitor’s story had been explicit, and the rec- 
tor believed it true. Stephen was seen, surrounded 
by a mob of men, singing his hymn and demand- 
ing that they adopt it. At times he shouted out 
maledictions against his enemies who had con- 
spired to ignore his composition and to keep 
him from the recognition he deserved. The 
mob applauded in wild '“jest, and he went with 
them to fight the draft and the police, believing 


STEPHEN PREVAILS 


371 


that they were his enemies and that he had found 
a band of friends to help him put them to flight. 

All that afternoon the two men pursued their 
search in vain. They followed the track of the 
rioters, at the risk of their lives, but they could 
get no trace of Stephen. 

It was evening. The block of buildings that 
had been flred earlier in the day was now reduced 
to a glowing mass of debris, surrounded by an 
army of flremen who played cataracts of water 
upon it. The light fllled the street which was in 
the possession of a mob of frenzied men and boys 
gathering for a triumphal march through the city. 
The searchers had gone once more to the boarding 
house on Fourteenth Street. Stephen had not re- 
turned. Staggering with weariness, the Bishop 
retraced his steps to Broadway, Mr. Dunn sup- 
porting him and begging him to desist. His en- 
treaties were in vain. 

As they rounded the corner and looked north 
they saw the glare of the Are shining on the build- 
ings on both sides of the street and heard an angry 
murmur, swelling louder and louder until it burst 
into an indescribable roar of fury. At the same 
time a crowd of people fled by in terror and sought 
the shelter of doorways and side streets. On every 
side was heard the hoarse cry ^^They’re coming! 
They’re coming!” 

Then the head of the procession appeared. Ban- 


372 


THE EIGHTIHa BISHOP 


ners, guns, pitchforks, and pistols gleamed above 
the dark mass in the uncertain light. 

^^ 1^0 draft!’’ they roared. ^^Down with the po- 
lice ! Kill the niggers !” 

Mr. Dunn shrank hack, appalled. He was no 
coward, hut as he saw that dark river of men roll- 
ing down upon him his nerves gave way. 

Suddenly, above the general tumult, piercingly 
shrill, arose a strange, wild song of triumph; and 
as the procession swept by the Bishop saw his son. 
He was walking at the front, his head thrown back 
in an ecstasy, singing his hymn and leading his 
army to battle. The rout of fugitives bore the rec- 
tor back, but the Bishop parted them as if they 
had been phantoms. He reached his son’s side 
and laid his hand upon his arm. The boy, never 
stopping in his song or march, turned on his father 
his wild, nnrecognizing eyes. 

^^Come with me,” the old man pleaded. am 
your father. I’ve come to take you home 1 ” 

Stephen did not heed him. He shook off his 
father’s hand and kept on his way, happy at last 
in his victory, after all the years of struggle and 
failure. So they walked side by side at the head 
of that furious army, the old man pleading with 
broken voice and tears, and striving with unavail- 
ing strength to draw his son away. At last his 
persistence made an impression. Stephen stopped 
singing. 


STEPHEN PEEVAILS 


3Y3 


“You mustn’t hinder me now, old man!” he 
cried. “I’ve got my rights at last. This is my 
army. We’ll down the critics ; we’ll kill the Ger- 
man fools I This is my army ; mine ! mine ! And 
they are all singing my song, my glorious anthem, 
fit to be the battle hymn of America ! They tried 
to keep me out of it, but I was too much for them ! 
They didn’t know I had a few friends, too 1” He 
laughed shrilly. “Let me alone, I say ! What do 
you want ? You shall be a captain ; but you must 
sing and fight, and not talk I” 

They were nearing Amity Street as he said 
these words. In front, a solid mass of policemen, 
extending from curb to curb, was bearing down 
upon them. Stephen laughed aloud and danced 
forward, his song rising to a mad pitch of ultimate 
victory. The next moment he fell, killed by a blow 
from a captain’s club. 

The police swept on. There was a chorus of 
curses and groans, dull blow upon blow, and a 
volley of fire-arms. The rioters fled backward, 
leaving their dead and dying upon the pavement, 
and the Bishop kneeling beside his son. 

The life, so strange and stormy, lighted by its 
one pitiful gleam of love, was over. Out of all 
that madness and failure, what was left ? A few 
short pieces of rare and exquisite music which 
justified, perhaps, the mysterious ways of Nature 
by which the artist works out his truth above the 
wreck of his earthly fortunes. 


CHAPTEE XXXII 


AFTER SO MANY DEATHS 

The old house hj the bay shore seemed very 
large and silent, for the wedding guests had de- 
parted. The empty wine-bottles which Mrs. Am- 
brose had kept from her own wedding still stood 
upon the table, mute witnesses of the joy, so near 
to tears, that had attended the marriage of Imogen 
and Basil. The very position of the furniture, 
suggesting the recent festivity, intensified the feel- 
ing of confusion and desolation. 

As the cool April evening deepened into night 
a steady rain beat drowsily against the window- 
panes. Mrs. Ambrose, exhausted by the emotions 
of the day, had gone to her room. Cecily moved 
about putting things in order with firm, strong 
hands. More like her father than any of his sons, 
she ruled the Woman’s Auxiliary and her own 
home with the same able tyranny that had been 
the cause of his triumphs and his sorrows. Cyprian 
was kindling the logs in the great fireplace, kneel- 
ing on the bricks and plying the bellows until the 
ashes fiew up in a white dust about his head. The 
Bishop and Eusebius sat silent, conjuring up the 
374 


AFTER SO MANY DEATHS 


S75 


ghosts of dead faces that once had gathered in that 
place. The old man especially was sunk in mem- 
ories of the past, thinking how many more were 
the familiar forms in that spirit-world he felt to 
be so near than those who still remained with him. 
The earlier part of his life came back to him more 
distinctly than the intervening years. The wed- 
ding, but a few hours in the past, seemed as much 
a part of that long story of events as some festivity 
of his youth. He began to reckon BasiTs age, to 
compare it with his own at the time of his mar- 
riage. 

^^How long were they engaged he asked, sud- 
denly. 

Eusebius roused himself from his reverie. 

^^Let me see,’’ he mused. ^Tt must be nearly 
nine years; two years longer than Jacob served 
for Eachel.” 

^^Too long, too long,” his father said. ^Tt 
wasn’t so in my youth. We didn’t wait then to get 
a start in life. We had more faith in the future 
and in the power of love to make the struggle 
easy.” 

^Hut the war,” Eusebius suggested, ^^and his 
legal studies. He’s only just admitted to the bar.” 

studied theology after my marriage. He 
could have supported himself some way while 
studying. They could have been married these 
two years. There was a finer wisdom in the cour- 


376 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


age of tlie pioneers. I doubt if our growing civil- 
ization is likely to produce men and women of 
heroic mould. But I^m afraid I’m becoming a 
lauder of the past.” 

The flames leaped into sudden brilliancy, and 
the Bishop caught sight of Anna’s child standing 
forlornly by himself at the window. 

^^Come here, Lionel,” he said. 

As the boy stood before him, the Bishop pushed 
back his hair with a gentle hand until the timid 
blue eyes were raised to his own. 

^^How old are you now ?” he asked. 

^^Seven,” answered the child, ^^going on eight.” 

The old man smiled at the promise suggested in 
the reply. 

^^Keep on growing,” he said, kindly, ^^and you’ll 
soon be eight, going on nine. Have you begun 
your Latin yet ?” 

Lionel shook his head. The Bishop thought of 
the boy’s mother, pretty and shallow as ever, liv- 
ing with her third husband, a hulking, good-na- 
tured fellow who had a farm near French Camp. 
She had resigned the care of her son with evident 
relief. Somehow, she managed to rule her hus- 
band absolutely and to avoid doing the work that 
usually fell to the lot of a farmer’s wife. She had 
gone back to her old religion, which was also that 
of her husband, and no voice was raised in more 


AFTER SO MANY DEATHS 


377 


fervid prayer at the annual camp-meeting than 
Anna’s. 

The Bishop thought of her selfish and shiftless 
life and wondered whether her son, with those eyes 
so like hers, could be trained to escape his evi- 
dent inheritance. 

^^Eusebius,” he said, ^The child must begin with 
tuha to-morrow. Why, at his age, I was constru- 
ing the Viri Eomae/* 

He took his lamp and rose to go. 

shall be busy to-night,” he said ; ^^something 
I’ve been thinking of for some days. We’ll talk it 
over in the morning.” 

When he had seated himself at his desk he 
looked up at the familiar rows of books with kind- 
ling eyes. Once more the fire of the creative im- 
pulse burned within him. He had thought its 
embers dead for ever, choked by the ashes of his 
grief ; but here he was once more in the old place, 
with another battle to fight and the old faith in 
himself to nerve his purpose. He took a deep 
breath and smiled happily. Then he turned up the 
lamp, spread out the white paper, and began to 
write. 

For hours he kept at his work, till the others 
had gone to bed, and the house was still. He laid 
aside his pen, weary but triumphant, and listened 
awhile to the beating of the storm against the 
windows. It was not now a mournful sound, but 


378 


THE FIGHTING BISHOP 


an anthem of the awakening earth. He had not 
passed snch a night for years, and he went to his 
dreamless rest, feeling that life was good, and that 
he had all eternity in which to do his work. 

At the breakfast table the next morning he dis- 
cussed the problem of reconstruction with all his 
old time fervor. Tears of joy stood in his wife^s 
eyes, and Eusebius wondered. When the father 
and son went into the study the old man threw 
open the window and stood inhaling the sweet, 
mild air with deep content. The storm was pass- 
ing away. Soft, fleecy clouds melted into the blue 
sky, while scattering drops of rain still fell in a 
gentle spray which the sun made iridescent. A 
faint odor of apple blossoms floated in. The 
Bishop turned and pointed to the sheets of manu- 
script on the desk. 

^Take a pipe,’’ he said, as he lighted his own. 
‘^The morning smoke is always the best, doctors to 
the contrary notwithstanding. I don’t know what 
came over me last night, but I suddenly realized 
how weak my faith had been. Here was a great 
work to be done, a great question on which I had 
positive opinions was to be settled, and yet I re- 
tired from the flght and skulked like a coward be- 
cause God in His wisdom had seen fit to punish 
my pride and my sin. They are all safe, my boys. 
I shall go to them, though they may not return to 
me. And who am I to question God’s ways and be 


AFTER SO MANY DEATHS 


379 


a laggard in His vineyard before my summons 
comes ? Wby, I’m as strong as I ever was ! I 
have many years yet, I hope, and much work to 
do. Look at this. I’ve been writing an open let- 
ter on the subject of the negroes, to be read at the 
next General Convention. They’re not fit to vote 
yet ; they are only poor black children opening 
their weak eyes for the first time against the daz- 
zling light of freedom. There is need of some one 
now to stand in the breach and give sound counsel. 
Mark my words : this question hasn’t been settled 
by wholesale emancipation. The trouble has just 
begun. Verily ^The fathers have eaten a sour 
grape and the children’s teeth are set on edge.’ 
What we need is Church colleges all over the south, 
and an educated negro ministry. It is a grand 
opportunity for the Church, and we must take it 
now.” 

^‘1 knew you would return to the fight,” said 
Eusebius, his face radiant. 

The Bishop threw back his head proudly. He 
v/as once more the indomitable old soldier of the 
Church militant. 

looked into my Cicero the other day,” he 
continued. hadn’t read the ^Cato’ for years; 
and I came across that passage in which he de- 
scribes the deeds of old men. What! Could Isoc- 
rates write his Tanathenaicus’ at the age of nine- 
ty-four, and am I to lay down my pen at seventy ! 


380 THE FIGHTING BISHOP 

But here is something better yet. Our old favor- 
ite, George Herbert.” 

He went to the shelf and took down the well- 
worn volume. Standing erect he read: 

^^And now in age I bud again ; 

After so many deaths I live and write ; 

I once more smell the dew and rain, 

And relish versing. O my only light, 

It cannot be 
That I am he 

On whom thy tempests fell all night I” 

Eusebius was deeply touched. His father re- 
sumed his chair, his face aglow with the joy of 
his new life. Then his look softened. 

^^And after I am gone you will take up my 
work. You will finish the school I began, as Solo- 
mon built the temple of which his father 
dreamed.” 

^^DonT speak of that time,” Eusebius protested. 
•That^s a long way ahead. We’ll do the work to- 
gether.” 


FINIS 


A LIST OF RECENT FICTION OF 
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WHEN KNIGHTHOOD 
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A VIVACIOUS ROMANCE OF REVOLU- 
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ALICE o/OLD 
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A Mid-century American Novel 
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MY LADY PEGGY 
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“ AN ADMIRABLE SOCIAL STUDY ” 


THE FALL OF 
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By HAROLD BEGBIE 


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FULL of INCIDENT, ACTION Uf COLOR 


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“AN INDIANA LOVE STORY” 


ROSALYNDE’S 

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A NOVEL OF EARLY NEW YORK 


PATROON VAN 
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By HENRY THEW STEPHENSON 


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I 




A STORY OF THE MORGAN RAID, 
DURING THE WAR tf the REBELLION 


THE 

LEGIONARIES 

By HENRY SCOTT CLARK 


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I I I I I —. 11 — ■ ■. . ■■■I .1 I ...» 



THE STORY OF AN AMERICAN 
CRUCIFIXION 


THE 

PENITENTES 

By LOUIS HOW 


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THE SUBTLE SPIRIT OF THE SEA 


SWEEPERS 
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The Story of a Strange Navy 

By CLAUDE H. WETMORE 


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From the Buffalo Review 

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From the Minneapolis Times: 

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A STORY TOLD BY A REAL STORY- 
TELLER 


A SON OF 
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By GEORGE KNIGHT 


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The reader realizes at once that Mr. Knight is a man who 
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on his own account. , 

The deftness and charm of his literary style, combined 
with the absorbing interest of the story, can not but prov5 “ 
delight to every reader. 

With a frontispiece by Harrison Fisher 
i 2 mo. Cloth. Price, ;^i.5o 

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VIGOROUS, ELEMENTAL, DRAMATIC 


A HEART 
OF FLAME 

The story of a Master Passion 

BY CHARLES FLEMING EMBREE 

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' ANOTHER SUCCESSFUL HISTORICAL 
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THE BLACK 
WOLF’S BREED 

By HARRIS DICKSON 


From the Boston Globe : 

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“ As delightfully seductive as certain mint-flavored beverages 
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From the Los Angeles Herald : 

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From the San Francisco Chronicle : 

“ As fine a piece of sustained adventure as has appeared in 
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From the St. Louis Globe-Democrat : 

‘ ‘ There is action, vivid description and intensely dramatic 
situations.” 

From the Indianapolis News: 

“ So full of tender love-making, of gallant fighting, that one 
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“IN LONDON OF LONG AGO” 


THE 

FICKLE WHEEL 

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Without seeming to do so the author shows us many 
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